


The Burning Rose

by OpalSpirit



Series: Folktales AU [6]
Category: La Belle et la Bête | Beauty and the Beast (Fairy Tale), Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Curses, Dark Magic, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Exile, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Inspired by Beauty and the Beast, Isolation, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prisoner Loki, Slow Burn, Spells & Enchantments, Trials, a dash of some good 'ol whump, abandoned castles, mentions of torture, reference to past trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29218905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalSpirit/pseuds/OpalSpirit
Summary: Condemned to live in isolation in Asgard's northern mountains, Loki is given no companion save for a rose slowly consumed by flame. Should the rose be ash before he has won the heart and trust of another, then his seidr would be no more and the form he so despised would be on display for all to see.Years would pass before hope would enter his life again.Caught in a snow storm and having been separated from her friend, a young woman enters the palace. A face he knows. From the shadows he watches her and remembers their friendship that once stood to be something more. Her curiosity takes her to the burning rose. Surrounded by wrought iron, the bloom is untouchable and held by a hand poured of the same metal.Until she reaches out and touches it. She takes it and is not burnt. Frightened by his cry of fear, she runs. But those who cross onto the grounds, can never leave.
Relationships: Frigga | Freyja & Loki (Marvel), Loki/Reader
Series: Folktales AU [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799605
Comments: 13
Kudos: 189





	1. Prologue: The sentencing

The entire realm was there. All had come from their homes to watch and bear witness to the return of their Princes. Great cheering erupted from the gathered crowd, even as their gazes and hearts became like ice at the sight of the younger of the two. A platoon of guards accompanied the Princes the moment they stepped out from the Bifrost.

The crowd stretched along the newly repaired crystalline bridge, all the way to the gates of the palace. The nobles and courtiers however, awaited them in the palace's grand throne room where the King and his Queen presided, waiting for their sons.

The moment the great doors opened, the low rumble of conversation ceased and all eyes turned to those who had entered. Prince Thor, as golden and glorious as the sun himself. His blood red cloak snapped at his heels and Mjölnir held firmly in his right hand. In his left hand, glowing a brilliant blue, was the Tesseract, encased safely in a cylinder of glass. Its light reached out to the man that walked a short distance behind Thor.

The second Prince. The Dark Prince. As different from his brother as summer is from winter. Prince Loki. His chin was lifted and his emerald eyes surveyed the crowd with clear distaste. A heavy silence had fallen at the sight of the chains he wore and the muzzle that silenced him. All knew what had transpired on Midgard and all had come to hear the Allfather's judgement.

Stopping a few feet shy of the thrones, Thor bowed low to both monarchs before speaking. "Great Allfather, I present to you the Tesseract. Taken from your vault so long ago, it is now returned."

A low murmur followed his words before Odin himself stood from his throne and held up a hand, silencing the crowd. "My son, you honour us with your bravery and we thank for the safe return of our most greatest treasure."

By his side, Frigga smiled at her eldest, but not before her gaze strayed to the man behind him. Her breath caught and her heart thundered. He had altered in his time away and she shuddered to think of what had happened. Yet she still yearned to know. This was her son, not of her body but of her heart. Her eyes traveled the length of the chains that bound him and the cruel design of the muzzle that silenced his clever tongue.

He did not meet her gaze, instead his attention remained fixed on the King and the elder Prince.

"My son," Odin addressed Thor once more. "You bring before us the one who responsible for the death and turmoil on Midgard?"

Thor did not look to his brother when he nodded and replied. "Yes, Allfather. I do."

With a small motion of his hand, Odin gestured for the guards to bring Loki forward. "Remove the muzzle," he instructs, much to the confusion and surprise of the guards. Despite their reservations, they dare not disobey a direct command.

The moment the muzzle falls away, Loki stretches his jaw and takes a breath. A low chuckle precedes his words, "I really do not see what all the fuss is about." The words though not shouted, echoed as though they had been.

Odin raised an eyebrow and Frigga braced herself. "Do you truly not understand the gravity of your crimes? Wherever you go there is war, ruin and death."

"I went down to Midgard to rule the people of earth as a benevolent god. Just like you."

The insincerity behind his words was understood by all and the poison in their glares and whispers only grew.

Odin smiled, and yet it held little warmth. "We are not gods," he replied smoothly. "We are born, we live and we die. Just as mortals do."

"Give or take five thousand years," Loki shot back, not missing a beat.

Sitting back on his throne, Odin considered him. His fallen son. The wayward Prince. "All this because Loki desires a throne," he muttered.

Loki clenched his jaw, his breath hissing out of him. "It is my birthright!" He exclaimed, raising his voice only a touch.

Those words brought Odin to his feet, his one eye filled with a cruel glint. "Your birthright," he spat, "was to die. Cast out onto a frozen rock." So caught up was he, that he did not hear Frigga's strangled gasp. Nor did he see her kind eyes fill with tears.

Loki did. He saw them. He heard her. His body acted on reflex as he took a step in her direction.

"If I had not taken you in, you would not be here now to hate me," the King continued, meeting Loki's glare. If Asgard had not known of his parentage before, they most certainly did now.

Moving away from his mother and stepping instead towards the King, Loki spoke once more, a strange plea in his voice. "If I am for the axe, then for mercy's sake just swing it," he dared not look Frigga's way as he spoke. The devastation in her eyes would be too much. "It is not that I do not love our little talks, it's just that, I don't love them."

A moment passed before Odin spoke once more. "The Queen is the sole reason behind your continued existence. It is for her sake that I pass this sentence. You will be sent to the northern mountains. Your cell will be the abandoned palace built before my father's time. Isolation will be your sentence. You shall remain there until you have earned the love and trust of another, despite your heinous crimes."

Loki said nothing. No words came to him as he stared at the King, his once father.

In the silence that followed his statement, Odin held out a hand and in his palm formed a rose. A singular white bloom that stood proudly on a strong green stem with four leaves. Within moments, it was consumed by flames. Yet no ash fell and Loki soon saw that though the flames licked at the rose, the flower did not burn. "Should you fail," Odin said, "should this rose be ash before such time, then the realm will see you as you truly are, the monster parents tell their children about at night. Your seidr will be stripped from you and the mountain palace will be your tomb."

Beside him, Frigga's soft denial caught his attention. Yet her gaze was on her son. Her son who now had finally met her gaze. "Why?" She asked, speaking for the first time. "Loki, why?"

The Prince had no words in the face of his mother's distress. His arrogance melted away and he longed to tell her everything, yet his lips and tongue would not move. Even if they had, he doubted Odin would have taken him at his word.

"Guards," Odin said, the men snapping to attention. "Escort the prisoner to his new home and leave this with him," he said, encasing the burning rose in an intricate cage of wrought iron with a hand created of the same metal to hold it.

Loki did not feel the guards pull him away, his eyes remained locked with his mother's. He did not see Thor or Odin or the accursed courtiers who jeered and nodded their heads in agreeance with his punishment. Only pulling his gaze away once the doors closed behind him, he began to search for one other face he hoped to see one last time.

She was not there. But her family was and there was only loathing and disgust in the eyes of her parents and siblings. Would she have regarded him the same way? Perhaps it was for the best that he could not find her face in the crowd.

The journey to the northern mountains drew on for hours. When at last they came to a halt and Loki was hauled from the carriage, he looked up and around. The mountain palace loomed above them, dark and imposing.

"Your throne awaits, _Your Highness,"_ his guards jeered as they left him there, the empty carriage trundling along behind them. It was cold to be sure, but the cold he could handle. Looking down at his bound hands, he noted with surprise that with a breath of the cold wind, they fell from his wrists, narrowly missing the enchanted rose the soldiers had left behind.

Tearing the muzzle off, he stooped to collect the flower and held it close. Like hel he was going to remain there. He was soon to discover however, that a ward had been placed at the border of the grounds and no matter how hard he tried, he could not break through.

Heart sore and seething, he turned and made for the palace. The doors swung open without a sound and upon summoning a light, he picked his way through. Coming at last to a chamber less ruined than the others, he set the rose down on the first table he could find and stared at it. Reaching out, he made to touch the flower, only to draw his hand away with a hiss as though burnt.

A cry then tore from him as his legs gave way and his seidr flared out. Clutching his head, he bowed against the cold stone floor. Who would possibly give their heart to him? Their trust even less likely. There were none on Asgard that would think kindly of him, not after this day. Nor any soul in the Nine.

With a trembling hand, he summoned a mirror, large enough to hold in his hand. His reflection stared back at him and he gnashed his teeth. How had he fallen so far? He was a Prince, a King! A King betrayed and now left, condemned to be forgotten.

Opening his eyes and standing, he went to the rose, his free hand hovering close to it. The hand that held it bore a ring. A ring he found familiar but could not place. "Beautiful, wretched thing," he whispered. Fear lanced through him however, when a single flake of ash fell and settled below the flower. The first of many that would fall over the coming years.


	2. The Herbalist

Taking a deep breath, she breathed in the crisp winter air and smiled. It was good to be home, after twelve years away. Turning to where Heimdall stood, she offered him a warm smile and nodded her head. "Thank you, Heimdall."

"A pleasure as always, milady," the gatekeeper replied. "It is indeed good to have you back with us."

Turning back to the entrance of the observatory, she saw a horse waiting patiently. Her smile transformed into a grin, for it was her horse. Her darling Aurnia, named as such for her golden coat and glimmering mane. "Remember me?" She spoke softly, gently stroking her muzzle, "it has been some time." As though in answer, Aurnia nuzzled her palm. "Oh you sweet girl. I have missed you too."

Without further ado, she slung her singular piece of luggage over her shoulder and vaulted onto the horse, taking the reins and gently squeezing her thighs. Answering the silent command, Aurnia leapt into a gallop.

As the wind combed through her hair, she could not help but laugh. The sound was full and filled to the brim with joy. As the citadel came closer, she felt her smile widen. Snow had begun to fall, dusting the golden spires of the palace in a soft white and setting the fresh snow to sparkling in the sun. She had returned in the morning and the city surrounding the palace was beginning to wake.

With a twinkle entering her eye, she urged Aurnia on and soon they were streaking through the town. Those that saw them and recognised her shook their heads and muttered to themselves.

The town and palace however, were not her destination.

The estate her family had lived on for generations was a little way out of the city. Leaving the city behind, it was not long until the tell tale expanse of the family orchard came into view. Now that winter had arrived, the branches of the trees were bare and carried snow instead of vibrant leaves and round red apples. The sprawl of the manor curled around the orchard, a stony guardian with stained glass windows and winding staircases and more rooms than there were members of the family.

Unable to help herself, she lifted a hand and waved, calling out a greeting to whomever might be close enough to hear her. Soon she came galloping along the hedge lined road that led to the manor's main entrance and no sooner had she dismounted then a blur of blue and auburn hurtled toward her, knocking the breath from her as it collided with her chest.

Laughing, she wrapped her arms around the man she now saw to be her younger brother, Viggó. His arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her from the ground, spinning her as he did. Setting her down, he met her gaze, "welcome home, sister."

"You have grown," she remarked, having to tilt her head back to meet his eyes, the same colour as her own.

He grinned and nodded to her. "That has been known to happen," he replied, laughing as she swatted him playfully on the shoulder.

"It is good to be back."

"Twelve years is a long time," Viggó agreed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Come, mother and father are out the back. We were not expecting you to come until tomorrow, that is what your letter said."

"I know," she sighed and looked around as her brother escorted her through the well known corridors and rooms. "Is Adamina here?"

Viggó shook his head. "She was planning on coming tomorrow, along with little Hannele."

She smiled at the mention of her niece. She had yet to meet her, having been born while she was away on Alfheim. "I cannot wait to meet her."

"The same goes for her," Viggó said, "Adamina has told her quite a few stories of you."

She pulled a face, making her brother laugh.

Stepping out of one of the many parlours, her eyes locked onto what could only be described as the most beautiful glasshouse she had ever seen. Before she could so much as call for her parents, her brother had beat her to it. His call brought their mother and father from the glass house, stopping short at the sight of their second child.

Breathing her name, her mother came forward first and enveloped her daughter in an embrace. "What a surprise this is," she said, smoothing her daughter's hair and kissing her forehead. "Your letter said that we were to expect you tomorrow."

"I know," the younger woman replied and buried her face in her mother's shoulder. "But I am here now."

"Indeed you are," her father said, coming to embrace his wife and daughter. "I have waited twelve years to hug you again." When at last he stepped back and she did the same, he held her at arm's length. "My," he whispered. "You have changed so little, yet so much is different."

"Come," her mother said, taking her hand and her father's in the other and looked over to Viggó, "come on. There is something your father and I would like to show you."

As they entered the glasshouse, she gasped. All her plants had been collected and carefully planted and placed within it. Hanging crystals hung at intervals and the windchimes her friend Ingrid had given her hung by the entrance. "What is this?" She whispered, aghast.

"Yours," her parents and brother said, laughing as they spoke at the same time.

"Mine?"

The three of them nodded. "Yours," Viggó said.

Letting go of her parents, she took to exploring, not noticing when her family departed, leaving her with her flowers and herbs. All of which had medicinal properties. To her right, tucked between two shrubs, was her work table.

By the time the sun had reached the sky's midpoint, she was kneeling among the plants, her nails darkened with soil, her brown apron hiding the worst of the stains. Bundling together a small amount of rosemary, she tied it off neatly with twine and hung it to dry. Rummaging about in the drawers of her table, she finally found what she had been looking for, a blank sheet of parchment and a quill. Dipping the quill into the ink pot, she began to write. Before she had left Alfheim, the elves that had been her tutors had given her a number of plants and herbs that they recommended she add to her garden.

Scrawling down the names from memory, she folded the parchment and tucked it into the satchel that hung from her belt. It was time to visit the town.

The journey there did not take all that long and soon the bustling sounds surrounded her, even more so when she dismounted. Despite having come to the town for a reason, she let herself wander. So little had changed in her time away. The monotony and the sameness of it all used to bore her, but now it comforted her. She was home.

Threading her way through the crowd that muttered as she passed and threw disapproving looks her way, she made her way to the nursery. Pulling her list from her satchel with her free hand, she secured Aurnia's reins to the post just outside the nursery.

"Good morning," she called and smiled upon seeing the owner emerge from behind a large bayleaf tree.

"Do my eyes fool me or is that young Lady Y/N?" The owner, a stout and portly woman asked by way of greeting. "Welcome back, lass."

"Thank you," Y/N replied. "You are the first in the town to say such to me."

"Don't you listen to them," the woman, Kalyna by name, said. "They are fools, plants on the other hand, can always be trusted."

Y/N grinned and nodded. She couldn't agree more. Passing her companion the list, she said, "these plants were recommended to me by my teachers. Would you by any chance have any of them?"

Kalyna returned her grin with one of her own. "Lass," she said, giving the list back. "All those on your list are in my care."

Her heart leapt at the news. Not an hour later, she emerged with both plants and seeds, being sure to stow them carefully in her saddlebags. It was time to head home. Navigating her way through the crowd, she paid extra heed to all those that might jostle her precious cargo.

Then, from a little ways behind her, she heard her name being called. Closing her eyes, she sighed. She had hoped to avoid him. Making as if she had not heard him, she continued on her way. But still, his voice carried to her before he himself stood before her.

"Fandral," she greeted him and painted on a smile.

"Y/N," he said again and gave her what he believed to be a charming smile. "I do believe you have only grown more beautiful in your time away."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. How many times must she hear that? "You look," she paused, looking for a word that would not be too impolite but still impart her message for him to leave her be. "Well," she finally said. "You look well. Is there something I might help you with?"

"I only came to give you these," he said, brandishing a rather colourful bouquet of flowers. "Though I believe they have paled in comparison to your beauty."

"I thank you for the kind gesture," she said, glancing at the flowers. "But I really must be on my way and my family is expecting me."

"I thought they might look lovely on the dining table in the grand dining room or perhaps on your bedside table."

"I do not keep flowers in my room," she replied smoothly. "For it is cruel to pluck a plant from the garden unless you have an immediate use for it." Nodding to him and his gathered friends, she resumed her walk.

"Well," Volstagg said, sidling up to his friend, "that went all shades of wrong."

"Do not fret, my friend," Fandral assured him, his gaze fixed on her retreating figure. "She is simply proving to be worthy of my attentions. I do love a good chase, for the catch shall be all the sweeter for it."

So caught up was she in her thoughts, that she did not see the person before her until she had walked right into them. "My goodness!" She exclaimed, stumbling back. "I am so sorry, do forgive m- Prince Thor!"

Thor smiled widely upon seeing her. Attired in a simple white [gown](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/viking-dress-and-apron-ingrid-the-hearthkeeper) with a brown apron, she looked far from the noble lady he knew her to be. "Y/N! So the rumours are true after all, you have returned."

She nodded and smiled at her childhood friend. "Indeed I have. For good now. My studies on Alfheim have been completed."

"My congratulations," the Prince said and motioned for her to walk with him. "Remind me, what was your area of study?"

"Herbology," she replied, "and learning how to better focus my seidr to heal."

A strange look flashed through his eyes and was gone as soon as it had appeared. "Yes, indeed," he said. "Now I recall. Have you been to your family yet?"

She nodded and then her eyes filled with something akin to excitement. "I have, yes. But tell me, is Loki at the palace? I wish to show him something. My parents have gifted me with a glasshouse for my plants and I thought he might like to see it."

Thor was silent for a moment before speaking, shaking his head as he did so. "I am afraid not. He was called away and I do not know when he will return."

She tried to hide the disappointment the welled up inside her. She had been so looking forward to showing him and spending time with him after so long away. "I suppose I shall have to wait then," she said and smiled bravely. "I only wish he would have told me. We used to tell each other everything."

She did not see Thor grimace.

"I wrote to him everyday since I had left and for two years I received replies. But after that? I got not a word from him," there was a melancholy to her voice that made Thor wince. "All my letters went unanswered."

"The moment he returns, I shall send word to you."

A grateful smile curved her lips. "Oh will you? Thank you so very much," in her gratitude, she wrapped her arms around the Prince and felt him return the embrace. "I missed you, Thor. I missed you both."

Watching her go, Thor let out a long breath. How long would he be able to lie to her before she became suspicious? She was as clever and astute as Loki. The mere thought of his brother brought a twinge of discomfort. An entire decade had passed since the sentencing. A decade since Loki had been sent to live in the northern mountains in an abandoned palace.

Thor could only pray that her parents and siblings would stay silent on the matter. That no rumours or stories would reach her. But the Prince knew better than to believe the Fates would remain uninvolved.


	3. The storm

"But you only just got back!" Although she was a grown woman, Adamina now sounded like a petulant child who wasn't getting her way.

"It'll only be for a few days," her sister laughed, little Hannele clinging to her leg and giggling. Bending at the waist, she scooped the girl into her arms. "And besides, I shall have returned before the snow gets too deep to travel."

Adamina regarded her sister and sighed. "Are you taking someone with you?"

Y/N shook her head. "Just me and Aurnia. I have written ahead, Ingrid will be meeting me halfway."

"You never said it was Ingrid you were going to visit."

"I thought it was obvious. She's one of my only friends, and I know her family well."

"That is the least of my worries," Adamina muttered. "I hope you haven't forgotten how cold the winters get here, or how dangerous, especially where you are headed."

"Will you relax?" Y/N said, coming to stand before her very pregnant sister. "It's not as though I will actually be going to the mountains, just the foothills. There are some excellent paths for walking there."

"I don't like it," Adamina huffed. "Not even two days back and you are already haring off again. Do mother and father know?"

Y/N nodded. "They were about as happy about the whole idea as you are. Viggó wasn't much better."

"Then stay," her sister implored, taking Y/N's free hand in her own and squeezing gently. "There will be plenty of time to see Ingrid and the foothills later. You have been away from us for over a decade, surely your friend can wait another week or two?"

"If I had not written," Y/N replied, "then perhaps your words may have held some sway. But I cannot disappoint her now and I shall be back before you all have time to miss me again."

The tension was undeniable the next morning as Y/N secured her few belongings to Aurnia's saddle. Taking hold of the reins, she swung up into the saddle, the dark blue of her [gown and cloak](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/limited-edition-woolen-cape-and-hood-set-key-keeper) sitting in beautiful contrast to Aurnia's golden hide. The thick wool pooled around her and framed her face.

"Only a few days," her mother said as though to remind her daughter. Her daughter who smiled softly and nodded, reaching down to take hold of her mother's hand, tangling their fingers together for a moment before letting go.

In silence they watched her. A figure of blue and gold.

They all but flew over the snow dusted landscape, her cloak flying out behind her as she bent low, her eyes focused forward. It would not be long now until they reached the meeting point. Eventually slowing to a walk, Y/N took the chance to take in her surroundings.

She loved all the seasons. Spring with its abundance of new life. Summer with its warmth and clear, cloudless skies. Autumn with its sunset colours and crisp, cool mornings. Winter with its bitter cold and fine snow that sparkled should the sun hit it just right.

"Y/N? Is that you?" The voice of her friend calling to her pulled her from her silent observations.

Dismounting, Y/N had just enough time before Ingrid barrelled into her, her own horse waiting a few steps behind. Laughing, she returned her friend's embrace with equal enthusiasm and together they spun in the snow, their cloaks sweeping the snow in twinkling clouds as the sun caught on them.

"You are never allowed to leave for that long ever again," Ingrid declared, strands of her chocolate brown hair curling from where they poked out of her hood.

"It was not as if I had planned it," Y/N insisted, grinning and swung an arm around her friend's shoulder while holding Aurnia's reins with the other. Together they walked and she talked while Ingrid listened with rapt attention.

The sun was overhead when they both felt it. Turning, both women saw with growing horror, dark clouds racing towards them, eclipsing the already weak sun. "That can only mean one thing," Y/N whispered.

Looking at each other, they spoke but one word. "Storm."

It was as though the mere word had summoned the strong wind that now tore at their clothing and made it quite the challenge to even mount back up. Shivering beneath her cloak and woolen gown, Y/N remembered Adamina's words, perhaps she had forgotten how brutal Aesir winters could be. All around them the wind had whipped the snow into the air, taking away what vision and visibilty they had.

Relying the bright red of Ingrid's cloak to act as a guide, Y/N followed as best she could. It wasn't long before she was forced to duck her head, the snow and wind stinging her eyes and cheeks.

Then she heard it. A sound that sent the chill of fear skittering along her spine. It was the howl of a wolf. Her heart all but stopped when she heard three answering calls. "Run, darling girl," she whispered to Aurnia, "run before they find us."

The wind was against them. More than once Y/N had to fight to keep from falling from the saddle. Still, Aurnia ran, her strong legs plowing through the building snow and time soon ceased to have meaning for Y/N. Her hands, though encased in thick riding gloves, felt frozen. Her jaw was clenched tight in a vain effort to stop her teeth from chattering and she was certain her lips were the same colour as her cloak.

Only when Aurnia slowed down to a canter, did she finally brave a look around. Ingrid was nowhere to be seen. While the wind still blew with chilling ferocity, the worst of the storm appeared to be over. Where she was, Y/N had not the slightest idea, all she knew were two things. She was hopelessly lost and it was nearing night. The sky was darkening and the mere thought of spending the night out in the snow-laden woods was an unpleasant one.

A low growl behind her had the blood freeze to ice in her veins. The crunch of snow and a snapping branch greeted her next. Closing her eyes, Y/N took a stuttering breath before glancing over her shoulder, and immediately regretting it. The yellow eyes of four black wolves looked back at her. Never had she felt such fear. One of the wolves, the leader of the pack, bore a scar that sliced right through his left eye.

Swallowing hard, she kept her gaze on the pack even as she spoke in low tones to Aurnia. "Run." Only then did she look away as Aurnia leapt away, galloping through the snow, the wolves snapping at her heels. Their growls and snarls sent her heart to racing and she forced her attention forward as they wove between the trees and crossed half frozen brooks.

The wolves did not tire. Nothing seemed to deter them from their goal. Their prey. Many times they came close, only to fall behind again.

She saw it a moment too late to call out a warning. But it seemed as though Aurnia had seen it too. A great big gate was fast approaching and looked to be much too high to leap over.

From that moment, everything happened rather quickly. With a powerful kick of her hind legs, Aurnia sent two of the wolves flying against a nearby tree, killing them. The jolting of the motion sent Y/N toppling from the saddle into the snow. Scrambling to her feet and stumbling as she did so, she felt her legs take her backwards until her back met the cold bars of the gate.

The remaining two wolves however, had set their sights on Aurnia, even as the golden horse reared, pawing at the air and neighing loud enough to wake the dead. Braving her lethal hooves, the wolves approached her, only to regret it soon after as it joined its two companions.

The remaining wolf had turned and locked eyes with Y/N. A cold sweat beaded all over her as the creature stepped closer and closer still, saliva dripping from its maw and onto the snow. Its breath smelled foul and Y/N fought not to gag at the stench. It was getting much too close for her liking.

She was cornered and the wolf knew it. Aurnia knew it too, for now she had bent her great head and had taken the wolf's tail between her teeth and with one tremendous swing, flung the wolf into the air and away from her terrified mistress. But she did not stop there, for the wolf had gotten back on its feet and was headed back their way. Y/N watched in wonder as Aurnia lowered her head like a battering ram and ran straight for the wolf, chasing it back out into the wood.

Her heart in her throat, Y/N finally braved a look behind her. There, through the bars of the gate loomed a castle. A castle that meant shelter from the cold and protection from any further creatures of the forest. Slipping through the bars, she stepped onto the grounds. Her legs trembled beneath her as she walked, her whole body vibrating with the shivers that wracked her.

Craning her neck, she took in the sheer enormity of the palace before her. As it was night, she could only see a little. Having at last managed to reach the main doors, she took hold of the handle and attempted a weak knock. The sound barely echoed and yet the door opened. It was the last event she remembered before she fell to the ground, exhausted.

Aurnia ran for all she was worth. She ran until the fear had eased and the stately shape of a manor house formed in the near distance. Drawing on memories of previous trips with her mistress, she recalled that Ingrid's family lived there.

She knew she made for a strange sight, trotting onto the grounds without her rider, but help was needed.

"Aurnia?" Ingrid called, rushing from the house in a bundle of thick blankets, her parents hurrying out after her. "Aurnia, what are you doing here, girl? Where is Y/N?" Fear soon coloured her voice. "Where is she?"

"We must send word to her family," Ingrid's father said to his wife. "The sooner they hear of this the better-"

"No!" Ingrid exclaimed, cutting in and surprising him. "I will go. Aurnia will take me to her," in saying this she turned back to the horse and gently stroked her muzzle. "Won't you, girl?"

In answer, Aurnia butted her head lightly against Ingrid's hand.

"You will be going nowhere until you are fully recovered from your ordeal with the storm," her mother said firmly, but not unkindly. "You will be of no use to Y/N half frozen, come, the stable hands will ensure Aurnia has all she needs."

Allowing her mother wrap her in her arms, Ingrid allowed herself to be lead back to the house. Sleep eluded her that night, for questions came and went with no answer, only to return moments later.

_Where was Y/N? Just what happened to her after they were separated? Why did her horse come to them without her?_

Twisting in her bed, Ingrid snuggled down, grateful for the hearth and the fire. _Did Y/N have a fire? Had she found shelter? Was she even still alive?_ Shuddering at the thought, she dismissed it with a shake of her head. 

Y/N was out there somewhere and she would find her and bring her back to safety.


	4. The statues

She woke to warmth and unfamiliar surroundings.

The source of the warmth, she soon saw, was a rather large and cheery fire that burnt in an equally large hearth with an iron grate set before it to catch any wayward sparks. The hearth itself was a work of art. Carved out of white marble with intricate floral details along the mantle and down the sides.

The floral theme appeared to have been carried throughout the room. The bed itself, the softest she had ever lain on, had its four posts carved out of the rare golden pine. Flowers dripped down, wisteria in regal purple and jasmine in the purest white. Fascinated, she reached up to see if they were indeed real, a soft gasp escaping her as she discovered that they were. As she had reached up however, what she was wearing caught her eye and drew her attention to a mannequin that stood beside a dressing screen. The mannequin that now wore her [gown](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/linen-dress-with-detachable-sleeves-key-keeper). With a start, she looked down at herself and noted herself only to be wearing a chemise of white muslin.

Just what had happened after her arrival in this strange place? The last she recalled, her legs had given way as soon as she had stepped into the seemingly abandoned castle. 

Perhaps it wasn't as abandoned as she originally thought.

Confident in the warmth of the room, she slipped from the bed and approached her gown, noting that it was as dry as when she had left home. As her fingers trailed over the dyed linen, her eyes caught on her earrings that hung from the mannequin's ears. Looking down at her hand, she saw with relief that her left hand still bore the ring. Smiling absently, she lightly traced it as her mind wandered. Who had done this? Who was the master of this place? She owed whomever they were a debt of thanks.

Without second thought, she moved, slipping her gown back on. She stopped however, as she stood before the door. Singular it was and bore carved white lilies, each done in exquisite detail and appeared so lifelike, she reached out and touched them, only to feel wood beneath her hand. Grasping the curved iron handle, she was surprised to find that the door swung soundlessly open. The corridor beyond was softly lit with lanterns that hung from the stone walls.

Closing the door behind her, she padded down the passageway, her eyes wide and looking everywhere at once. Everything she saw held an undeniable beauty and each new thing she saw took her breath away.

Coming at last to a large staircase that looked as though it led to the entrance hall, she descended. The carpet was soft beneath her bare feet and reminded her of the new grass in the spring. Letting her hands trail along the cool marble rail, she looked up to where the ceiling disappeared into shadow. "What is this place?" She whispered, her voice soon mingling with the shadows and dissipating. "Where am I?"

As though in answer, a series of clangs echoed from her right. Snatching up the nearest torch, she slowly approached the source of the sound. "Hello?" She called, hating the slight quiver in her voice. "Hello?"

When no answer came, her eyes narrowed.

"You called?" Came a voice from her left.

Shrieking in fright, she spun, her arm lashing out and slamming the flaming torch into the side the speaker's head. Clutching at her racing heart with her free hand, she peered at the figure that was only now getting to their feet. Wordlessly she stared at them, for their skin looked to be the same shade as the stone the castle was built from. The figure, a woman, bowed to her and offered her a smile upon rising. "You have quite the arm, miss."

Still she stared.

The woman before her dipped into a cursty. "Maxym, at your service, miss."

"Y/N," she replied without thinking, only to clamp her free hand over her mouth soon after.

The woman, Maxym, chuckled. "A pleasure to meet you, miss Y/N."

"Your skin looks like stone," Y/N found herself saying.

"That is because it is, miss."

Y/N thought she had misheard. "Sorry?"

"Stone, miss," Maxym said.

"How? How is that possible?"

Maxym smiled softly and reached out, taking hold of Y/N's free hand and laying it against her cheek. When Y/N gasped at the feeling of cold stone beneath her hand, Maxym spoke again. "I did not always have life. Once I was a statue that had kept a still, silent watch over this palace for many centuries."

"Then how do you speak? How do you move so freely?"

"The master's magic," Maxym replied. "He gave me life. He gave all of us life."

Y/N felt her eyes widen. "There are more of you?"

Maxym nodded and grinned. "Who else do you think carried you up all those stairs, miss? It wasn't me, no. That was Garryn. He had just finished lighting the lanterns when he saw you collapse a few feet from the door."

As the 'statue' spoke, Y/N found her mind latching onto what had been said before. "You said the master's magic did this?"

Maxym nodded. "I did, yes."

"Who is he?" Y/N asked, curiosity overcoming her fear of the strange creature before her. "Does he know I am here?"

Again, Maxym nodded. "I would wager he does, yes. For there is little that transpires here that he does not know of."

"Who is he?" Y/N asked again, taking a small step forward.

"I do not know his name, miss," Maxym replied, smoothing a hand down her stone gown. "He has never given it to us and he receives no visitors."

Y/N frowned in thought.

"Come, miss," Maxym said, gesturing to where a warm light spilled into an adjacent corridor. "You must be famished after your ordeal. Cook has just about everything prepared."

Her companion's words reminded her that she had indeed not eaten since she had left her family. This brought yet another question and she asked it while they walked. "How long was I unconscious for?"

Maxym paused before answering, "about a day, miss. It is quite understandable, you were near dead on your feet by the time you stumbled to our door."

_A whole day?!_

Taking the torch from Y/N, Maxym set it into a waiting sconce on the wall and led the astonished young woman into the palace kitchens. Chancing a glance over her shoulder, she saw a shadow flit across the first floor gallery.

"Maxym!" Called a chorus of voices as they entered.

A man stepped forward and bowed low. "Garryn, at your service, miss," he said, earning a whispered laugh from Y/N. He had the same skin as Maxym and was twice as tall, his powerful physique reminded her a little of Prince Thor.

"It would seem I have you to thank for not leaving me by the door," she said, smiling and nodding her head. "Maxym here, told me that it was you who found me."

Garryn returned the smile, his stone features softening as he looked to the woman beside Y/N.

Coughing lightly, Maxym took Y/N gently by the arm and proceeded to introduce her to the entirety of the palace staff, all who had gathered in the kitchens.

"Where exactly am I?" Y/N asked, feeling foolish for not asking before. "I fear I am not familiar with this place."

The staff all exchanged a look before Garryn spoke up, his voice soft. "Not many are," he replied. "This palace was abandoned before the master came. You are in the northern mountains, miss."

"It does not look abandoned," Y/N remarked, earning a chuckle from Garryn.

"That is because what you see is the master's work," he explained. "After he gave us all life, he restored the palace to its former glory, or close to it at the very least."

"It is very beautiful," Y/N murmured.

"The master has an eye for detail," Maxym said, earning hums of agreement from her fellow staff. "Simple elegance is his taste."

"I should like to see more of it," Y/N said, earning smiles from the staff. "I do not believe I have ever seen anything of the like, even while I was away on Alfheim."

"I could take you, if you like?" Maxym offered, standing from her place at the long kitchen table. "Or perhaps you would like to rest a while and wait until morning?"

Y/N shook her head. "I am much too excited to sleep now."

"Come along then-"

"Maxym, a moment?" Garryn called softly, pulling her off to the side and whispering in her ear, drawing a look of confusion from Y/N.

Straining her ears, she caught only a few words. _"Careful.....the west wing...."_ Her curiosity remained as Maxym led her from the kitchens and back up the main staircase. She did not miss however, how her companion would, at intervals, glance over her shoulder, only for Y/N to do the same and see nothing.

What was she looking out for?

"Are we being followed?" She asked at last.

Maxym shook her head as they rounded a corner. "No."

Before she could voice her disagreement, Y/N saw that they now stood at the base of yet another set of stairs. No torches lit the corridors beyond. Humming softly, she stepped onto the first step, only for Maxym to pull her away. "What is through there?"

"Nothing," Maxym replied, a little too quickly to be believed. "Nothing of any interest at least. Come, there is much else to see."

Her curiosity piqued even further, Y/N made as though to follow, her eyes lingering on the dark staircase. Waiting until Maxym had disappeared down the hall, believing she was close behind, Y/N dashed up the stairs.

Summoning a soft light to her palm, she looked into the dark hallway. The difference was stark. The sight that greeted her startled her. "This is what it must have looked like before," she murmured. Ancient ruins surrounded her, horribly at odds with the elegance of the rest of the castle. Why had this corridor been left untouched? Was this the West Wing Garryn had spoken to Maxym about?

Room after room she looked into and was greeted with nothing that warranted such a warning. That was until she came to the last one. It stood alone at the end of the corridor, the door closed. Resting her free hand on the wood, she was surprised to find that it was not as rotten as it had appeared, but strong and sturdy, and it swung open without a sound.

Stepping into the dark room, she saw much the same as with the others, although this one seemed a little larger. From the ruined bed she found, it appeared to have once been a bed chamber. Standing by the bed, she ran her hand over what must have once been sumptuous fabric, but was now reduced to particles of dust. Why had the castle's new master not seen fit to restore this wing?

Sighing, she made to turn for the door when a soft glow caught her eye. For this glow did not come from her light, but rather from somewhere further into the chamber. Following the soft light, she soon came to what appeared to be an enclosed balcony, the domed roof partially fallen in. But it was not the sight of the star strewn sky that captured her attention, nor was it the sight of the moon, which was larger than she had ever seen it. No. It was something quite different.

It was a rose. At least, that is what she believed it to be. It stood on a lone table, with nothing around it. The flower itself was circled by an intricate weave of wrought iron, the details were astounding and yet, it was the flower that held her rapt attention. It was alight with flames that did not seem to burn it.

"How curious," she whispered and peered closer. Upon closer inspection, she saw that she had been mistaken. The flames were indeed burning it, but very slowly. A small layer of ash coated the table beneath the rose and iron hand that held it. A hand she recognised to be her own.

Narrowing her eyes in thought, she reached forward with the hand that bore the ring. She reached forward and braced herself for the sting of the fire, but it never came. The stem felt solid beneath her fingers. "Not an illusion then," she murmured and lifted the rose free of her hand's iron doppelganger. The fine ash now fell on her hand, but as she lifted it closer, a sound rang out that chilled her to the very bone.

It was a cry. A cry of terror that struck her own heart with such fear that she dropped the flower and ran. So terrified was she that she did not see Maxym who stood just outside the door with a look of pure fear.

The sound, that haunting sound followed her as she ran for the main entrance, all but wrenching the doors open and bolting out into the snow. The gate, however, would remain locked, as she would soon learn and no matter how hard she might try or what spells she might cast, it would not open.

She was trapped.


	5. The soothing cold

Gently securing the bandage into place, Maxym was only vaguely aware of Garryn as he stoked the fire and set the grate before it.

Looking up, she reached out and laid a cool hand against the young woman's cheek as she slept. Her bandaged hands were curled close, one close by her head, the other against her chest. "Such a sweet girl," she murmured, smoothing her hair. "If only she had not gone up _there."_

Coming to stand beside the bed, Garryn regarded their guest. "I know," he sighed, "but I suppose if anyone is to blame, it would be us. We did not try hard enough to keep her away."

Nodding, Maxym stood from where she had sat on the edge of the bed. "Let us hope those injuries heal soon, otherwise walking or simply holding anything will become a trial."

"Dare we ask the master?"

Maxym looked to her companion at his question. "To heal her?" She sighed. "No. Not after she tampered with the rose."

"But surely," Garryn said, resting a hand atop her shoulder. "Surely that was a good sign?"

She smiled sadly and turned her attention back to their guest. "Perhaps," she whispered. "Perhaps."

A thoughtful silence settled over them that in turn lended itself to the room's peaceful atmosphere. The fire crackled merrily and brought warmth to the young woman on the bed, who, only a mere few hours before had been retrieved from where she had collapsed, exhausted by the gate.

That feeling of peace came to an abrupt end when the chamber door opened and both Garryn and Maxym all but leapt from the bed. The one who entered was the last they had expected to see. "Master," both greeted in unison.

A young man in appearance, he stepped forward and cast a glance at the bed. As the door closed behind him, he looked to the pair that stood by the bed. A man of few words, he raised an expectant eyebrow.

"The wards that keep you," Maxym spoke up, "keep her also, master. She had attempted an escape, only to fail each time she tried."

Nodding as though accepting the explanation, he circled the bed so he came to the other side. Canting his head to the side, he looked at the sleeping woman, a distant look entering his eyes. A moment passed before he reached out, his hand stopping a hair's breadth from the wrist that lay curled near her heart. His fingers lightly grazed the bandage that curled around her palm, then he drew away.

Without a word, he turned away from the bed and made for the door, pausing only as he was about to step out. "Be vigilant in your care for her," he said, and with that, he disappeared.

The moment the door closed, Maxym and Garryn let their shoulders relax and let out a breath neither knew they had been holding. Neither said a word, for they did not know what to say.

Resuming her seat on the bed, Maxym gently and carefully unwound the bandages and gasped softly, drawing Garryn to her side. "What is it?" He asked.

"Look," she replied, eyes darting to the hand she held. Where the skin had once been torn and blistered from the cold iron of the gate, it was now unblemished save for a number of callouses she had borne before.

Both knew what this meant. He had healed her, despite what she had done.

"Why would he do that?" Garryn muttered, eyes glued to the healed skin.

"We cannot pretend to know his mind," Maxym said, laying the hand back where it had previously been. "But I am certain he has his reasons."

Upon leaving her to watch over their guest, Garryn too departed. He traced his way through the silent, torch-lit halls until he came to the great big doors of the palace library. Raising a hand, he knocked a series of three times before the doors swung open.

There was however, no one to greet him. Had he been wrong in his assumption? Had his instincts lead him astray? A slight movement from his left snapped him from his thoughts. It had been the smallest of movements, the simple turning of a page.

Framed by the library's tallest window, a panel displaying a strained-glass image of the the world tree, there he was. Not a hair out of place and his clothing was impeccable, as it always was. His hair was loose and hung in dark waves of ebony to his shoulders.

Not for the first time did Garryn ponder where he may have hailed from. He had said nothing of his family, nor of where his home had once been. "Master?" He spoke softly, already regretting the decision to disturb him.

The man before him made the barest sound of acknowledgement.

Taking the sound for what it was, Garryn continued to speak. "You healed her," he said simply. "Even after she touched the rose."

When only silence answered, Garryn made up his mind to be content with it. The master was a man who chose his words carefully and only spoke when it suited him. The silence stretched on for a while longer until Garryn nodded to himself and bowed to the man before him and turned on his heels to make for the doors.

"It alarms you?"

The question brought him up short and when he looked to the window, the master looked as he had before. Legs crossed at the ankle, book cradled in one hand as he turned the pages with the other.

"No, master, I simply-"

"I value honesty, Garryn. You know that. So I ask again, does it alarm you that I healed her?"

"It took me aback, sir. I shan't deny it."

Marking his place with a green silk ribbon and laying the book to the side, he looked up and regarded Garryn who's head was lightly bowed and his hands clasped before him. "Her touching of the rose was with no malicious intent, I know that now. It was simple curiosity and yet, I do not wish for her to pay a visit to that wing again, is that understood?"

Wordlessly, Garryn nodded.

"Until I have gathered sufficient strength to even attempt the smallest tear, I place her under your and Maxym's care."

"Yes, sir," Garryn replied and dared to look up. The master had turned to look out of the window, gracing him with his profile. A fine cut jaw that was tilted lightly up, the sharp nose equally so. If this man had come from noble stock, it would be of no great surprise, and yet despite the evident confidence he now witnessed, there was but the slightest hint of weariness. The last attempt to break through the wards had taken its toll on him.

"Excellent," the master said, "you are dismissed and see that I am not disturbed, least of all by her."

Nodding, Garryn bowed and padded across the thick carpet towards the doors and leaving the library behind.

The moment the doors closed, Loki sighed and sank back onto his previous seat and took up his book. He had not managed to move past the page's first sentence when he knew it to be a lost cause. Closing the book, he laid it aside and instead summoned the hand-held mirror that had become his only window to the outside world and the rest of the Nine.

He pondered the wisdom of his request yet to be made. In a voice barely above a whisper he spoke it and watched as the reflective surface of the mirror changed. No sooner had it done so, then he was on his feet.

It did not take him long to reach the room where that accursed flower resided. If her hand had passed through the flames unharmed, would his? He remembered well the sting of the burn he had sustained the first time he had made to touch it.

Setting the mirror down on the table beside the rose, he took a breath before reaching out, the heat of the flames testing his resolve. Gritting his teeth, he braced himself for the pain, the licking of the flames against his skin and with each moment that passed, the pain grew and became white hot. Clenching his jaw against the agonised cry he had felt build up, he pulled his hand away and looked at it. Blistered and red.

Hissing, he shifted his gaze to the rose. His gaze traveled the length of it, all the way down to the hand that held it. The hand of an unknown being, wearing a ring he now felt foolish for not recognising sooner. A ring he had seen but a short while ago, on the hand of a young woman. A figure from his past, a past so distant it seemed like a dream.

Cradling the injured hand close, he cursed the Allfather in all the languages he knew. He did not have the strength to heal, at least not by means of seidr. It was slowly seeping away from him, draining away and he felt it keenly every day.

The heels of his boots clicked on the marble of the empty corridors of his prison. Slipping out one of the many entrances, he knelt by a bank of snow and slowly lowered his hand. Small whimpers slipped past his lips and his breath came short and fast. Having fully submerged the injured limb, he waited.

Having woken in the same chamber as before, she looked to see her gown settled upon the very same mannequin. Her hands, which she was sure should have borne at least some burn from the cold iron, were unbandaged and whole. Her feet too, she soon discovered, bore no trace of having stood in the cold snow. Slipping from the bed, she approached one the windows and gasped softly. The view alone spoke to how high her chamber was.

No snow was falling. It must have stopped some time while she slept. Darting back to the bed, she pulled one of the nurmerous blankets and wrapped it snugly around her shoulders before opening the window. Cold instantly bit at her cheeks and hands, but she cared not. For the moon had set the snow to glowing. For the first time she saw the vastness of the palace grounds and even in winter it seemed as though the many sculpted hedges did not wilt and die. In the distance she saw a lake glimmering in the moonlight under a layer of ice. Perhaps she would visit it when the sun had risen.

As her gaze traveled over the grounds, she frowned when she saw a figure kneeling in the snow. It was not hard to see, even from where she was, that they sported hair as dark as the night and that their skin was as pale as the moon herself. She watched as the figure rose, shaking a hand that she now saw had been in the snow and wrap it gently in the black cloak they wore.

Her observation was cut however by Maxym who entered and promptly pulled her from the window, closing it and securing the latch.

"What was that about?" Y/N demanded, sounding confused.

"You are still recovering from the run out into the snow," the former statue informed her and herded her back to the bed. "The master would not be pleased to find that you had died of the cold while under his roof."

"The master," she murmured. "Was that who that was?"

"What did you just say?" Maxym asked, pausing in her task of pouring a steaming cup of tea.

"I saw someone," Y/N replied, adjusting the blankets around her and the pillows beneath her head. "Outside, just now. They were kneeling in the snow."

"What did this person look like?"

"I could not see much," Y/N said, accepting the cup Maxym now passed her. "All I saw of their appearance was the dark hair that fell at least to the shoulders, though that was difficult to see as the cloak they wore was also black. The skin was pale, especially under the light of the moon and they were tall. Taller than Garryn I would wager."

Maxym said nothing, her lips pressed into a thin line as she nodded and patted Y/N's hand before departing, leaving her charge more confused than ever.

She found him where she had expected to. The chambers he had claimed as his own glimmered in shades of green and accents of gold. In her hands she carried a small clay pot and a roll of bandages."Oh, master," she breathed upon seeing his hand and immediately set about gently applying the balm to the burnt and blistered skin. 

Loki was silent as she did so. The cold of the snow had helped to stop the burning, but the heat had remained. He watched as Maxym gently wrapped his hand in soft white bandages, securing them with a length of the twine she always seemed to have on her person.

"You tried to touch it again, did you not?" Maxym asked, her voice soft, yet firm. There was a fondness in her stone grey eyes as she regarded him. Silently, he nodded and she sighed. "Countless times you have tried, master. Countless times you have suffered the same injury-"

"She held it," he said, silencing a stunned Maxym. His gem-like eyes glimmered the light of the fire that burnt in the obsidian hearth. "She held it and was not harmed and so I believed..." his voice trailed into silence as he looked down at his hand. 

"You could do the same," Maxym completed the sentence softly. "You believed that perhaps the enchantment's strength was waning?"

He nodded and let out a heavy sigh. "I ought to have known," he said, standing and walking to stand before the fire. "Odin would not allow that to happen. He would not allow me to have hope."

"What if this young lady that is now with us should change that? Have you perhaps considered that, master?"

"Of course I have," he replied, resting his good hand on the obsidian mantle, the other he tucked behind his back. "I would have been a fool not to."


	6. Frozen over

"There is nothing to tell, miss. Honest." Pointedly ignoring the side glance Garryn shot her way, Maxym smiled at their guest.

"Nothing? Nothing at all?"

Sighing, Garryn spoke up. "In all honesty, miss, we know very little of the master. He speaks very little, he chooses every word with great care. He is a kind man and yet, he is quite guarded where any emotion is concerned. It would seem as though he has suffered some great hurt in the past and now wishes to protect himself."

Y/N was silent in the face of this. Turning her eyes to the hearth, she watched the flames lick eagerly at the wood.

"His eyes are sad," Maxym murmured, earning a look of surprise from her charge. "No spell, no enchantment and certainly no illusion can alter that."

"I wonder why," Y/N muttered thoughtfully, her right hand coming to fiddle idly with the ring on her left.

"It is said that the eyes are the windows to the soul," Maxym explained, "the depiction of the heart and no smile has ever reached his eyes. Nothing has ever set them alight."

"How incredibly sad."

Garryn and Maxym hummed their agreement.

"Know you where he came from?" Y/N asked, looking to the former statues.

Both shook their head. "He has spoken nothing of his home before this one," Garryn replied. "Nor of his family, but his attire and manner of bearing suggested noble birth."

"And he never gave you his name?"

Again, they shook their heads and Y/N sighed, disappointed. How was she to thank a man she knew so little of? How was she to seek him out? "I should like to speak with him," she said, shifting to slip out from the warm blankets and padded towards the mannequin that now carried [a red and black ensemble](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/medieval-fantasy-wool-coat-queen-of-shamakhan). The cloak itself bore intricate designs stitched along the sweeping, elegant sleeves. Designs that were carried into the buttons that secured it at the front and in the skirt of the gown beneath.

With but a small wave of her hand, the outfit now draped itself around her frame. Her hair hung in two braids and the accompanying fur trimmed hat sat upon her head, completing the look.

"Oh my," Maxym breathed, a hand over her heart.

"Indeed," Garryn agreed softly and smiled when Y/N looked their way.

"Will I do for a walk through the grounds?" She asked, smiling.

"Most certainly, miss," Maxym replied, nodding.

"Will I be able to find him there?"

"I cannot say, miss," Maxym said, regret tinting her words. "Perhaps, but neither of us can say for certain."

That was good enough for Y/N. Nodding to the couple, she spun on her heels and swept from the room. In no time at all, she found herself standing at the beginning of the rather extensive palace grounds. Excitement filled her and soon she was smiling, from ear to ear, a small giggle bubbling up and escaping.

Then she ran.

With the skirts held in both hands, she ran, leaving a clear trail of footprints in the snow. Through the hedges she ran and around topiaries shaped into mythical creatures. She skipped around frozen fountains and statues that were clothed in frost. Her laughter was carried up into the clear winter sky as she spun in delighted circles.

In her excitement she recalled the lake she had seen from her chamber window and wondered just how far away it was. Approaching a nearby tree, she took a firm hold of the lowest, sturdiest branch and proceeded to climb until she had reached the crown.

From her vantage point, she could easily see the castle behind her and there, but a short distance to her right, was the glittering, frozen lake. Carefully making her way back down, she all but leapt to the ground from the lowest branch and headed in the direction she had made out.

Coming to a halt, she felt her eyes widen at the sight before her. Weeping willow trees brushed the frozen surface of the lake with their branches that twinkled with frost crystals. The lake itself spanned more than a hundred feet away from her and was equally as wide. The ice was clear in patches while in others it was dusted with a fine coating of snow. But there, near the lake's centre was a small island. Though only big enough for a single tree, it reignited her curiosity.

Taking a deep breath, she took a hesitant step forward, bracing for the sound of cracking ice. When none came, her confidence grew and she took another step. Then another and then a few more until she was a good distance from the shore. Pausing for a moment, she took in her surroundings and took a lungful of the cold air. She could not help but smile.

It was as though magic had touched every inch of the grounds.

Nodding to herself, she spun carefully and turned back to the small island.

The first crack ought to have caught her attention. Simply dismissing the sound as the creaking of the tree up ahead, she kept going. The second crack was louder and brought her to a halt. Her eyes narrowed as she looked to the ice. Taking a step, she heard it again, that sound that now seemed to echo all around. It was low and ominous and spoke only of trouble. "Norns help me," she muttered before lifting her skirts and running, cursing all the while.

The island was within reaching distance when the cracks caught up with her. The ice became a deadly trap as water began to seep up from the cracks. With every step forward, she slipped three back. The leather of her boots was soon soaked and her cloak and gown was taking on water, serving only to drag her down. Terror filled her as the ice she was standing on gave way and she slipped backwards, right into the icy water of the lake.

Gasping at the cold, she made for the cracks in the ice.

The cracks however, were no longer there. The water had frozen above her, leaving her trapped beneath it. Gripped with a fear she had felt but once before, she began to hammer and claw at the ice, her lungs beginning to burn with the need to breathe.

Alarmed by the disappearance of the young lady's trail of footprints, Garryn and Maxym shared a fearful look before looking out across the lake. Y/N had been easy to follow, a spot of red amongst so much white. Until she had disappeared. Just like that. She was nowhere to be seen.

Maxym felt cold horror flood her as she caught a glimpse of red near the lake's centre. Her breath came short and fast as her mind presented situations to her that terrified her. "Garryn," she whispered.

"Yes?"

"Fetch the master," she said, a tremor in her voice. "Fetch him now."

"Why?" Garryn asked, alarmed, following her gaze with his own. "Oh no," he breathed, realisation dawning.

"Indeed," Maxym said. "Now go, goodness knows how long she has been..." she trailed off, shuddering and twisting her hands together.

"Hush now," he whispered, taking her hands in his. "I shall ask the master to come and we shall accept full responsibility yes? He did place her under our care after all."

Maxym nodded shakily, her attention fixed to the centre of the lake. She did not notice him leave. "I pray you are not too far gone," she whispered, hoping beyond all that the young woman would somehow survive the freezing temperatures. 

When the master arrived with Garryn close behind, she was sure she would never forget the look on his face. He spared the servants not a glance as he, without an ounce of hesitation, stepped onto the ice and swiftly made his way to the centre.

Looking down into the ice, he saw her. Attired in the red and black he had selected for her the night before. Closing his eyes, he called forth a soft heat to his hands as he pressed both to the ice. Upon feeling cool water, he opened his eyes and saw her. Her eyes were closed and her lips were such a shade of purple they appeared near to black. Disregarding his own injury, he reached forward and pulled her from the water.

Enchanting the ice to remain strong beneath them, he cradled her close, her sodden clothes soaking his own. "Come back," he whispered, warm breath fanning over her frozen cheeks. "Come back to me." Wrapping his cloak around her, he lifted her. "Come back, my darling," he murmured, pressing his lips to the cold skin of her forehead.

Garryn and Maxym followed him without a word as they returned to the castle. They waited at her chamber threshold as he laid her on the bed, exhibiting a strange tenderness as he tucked the blankets around her. Her clothing, Maxym now noticed, had changed. The soaked gown and cloak had been replaced by a simple cotton chemise of the purest white and her hair now framed her face in soft waves.

They watched as the master took her left hand in his and held it between his own as his lips moved with words they could not hear. He kept vigil at her bedside until she, at long last, displayed signs of waking.

Slight twitching at first, then her eyes flew open and she coughed, loud and harsh and bringing up lake water that soaked the blankets in moments. Heaving for breath, she looked around, her eyes wild.

Rushing to her side, Maxym steadied her. "There now, miss. All is well, you are safe now."

Gasping for breath, Y/N looked to her.

"Don't you worry about the bed," Maxym assured her. "I will have that changed in no time, in the mean time, come and sit by the fire."

Caccooned in blankets, Y/N reached out with a trembling hand, thus stopping Maxym as she made to go to the bed. "What happened?" She asked softly.

"What do you remember?"

"Well," she swallowed hard before continuing. "I remember the ice cracking beneath me and before I knew it, I had fallen into the lake and the ice had sealed above me. No matter how hard I pummeled it with my fists or clawed at it with my nails, nothing happened and all around me, I could feel my clothes becoming heavier by the second. My lungs were burning for air and then, it all went dark."

"And you do not remember anything after?" Maxym asked, coming to crouch at Y/N's side.

Y/N shook her head, only to pause mid shake and smile softly.

"What is it? Dare I ask?"

"A voice," Y/N explained. "A voice I have not heard in quite some time. It was as warm and comforting as I remember as it guided me back, and, like its owner, it was distant."

"A voice?"

Y/N nodded, the smile remaining but gaining a note of melancholy. "The voice of a dear friend," she said. "Someone I have not seen in an entire decade. I was so looking forward to seeing him again after my return, but his brother told me he had business elsewhere with no set date of his return."

Maxym remained silent and listened.

"My disappointment was painful in its intensity. I had hoped to spend some time with him after so long apart," as she spoke, she felt warm tears flood her eyes. "But he was not there. I missed him terribly, I still do. He was displeased when I informed him that I would have to travel to Alfheim to study, so much so that he refused to even speak to me. So, on the day I was to leave, I gifted him with a mirror of my own creation. But this was no ordinary mirror you see, for I had enchanted it so that one might see anything in the Nine, this included people too. I told him so and that he need only ask the mirror and he would be able to see me. Over the course of the two years that followed we spoke every day, via written correspondence and through the mirror."

When she paused, Maxym looked to her and saw the shimmering tracks that her tears had left behind.

"Then came the silence," Y/N continued, her eyes distant. "My letters went unanswered and my mirrors remained silent. In the ten years that followed, not once did I hear him call my name as he had so often done before and each day I lived in hope that it would finally change, but it never did. Not a single response came to the letters I wrote everyday. I then began to wander, was it something I had said?" Shaking her head, she looked down at her hands and took a gasping breath, her lips quivering. "But my family said nothing of his absence upon my return, and I doubt his brother would have said anything if I had not asked after him."

"Oh, miss," Maxym whispered, "I am so sorry, I should never have asked."

"No," Y/N replied, shaking her head. "No."

"What was he like? If I may ask?"

Now she smiled again. "He was such a kind, gentle soul, with a touch of mischief. Despite the rumours spread about him, about his cowardice for preferring the use of seidr and the written word over brute strength, I knew him to be one of the most honourable I have ever met. His first instinct was always to protect and his skill in combat made hardened warriors look like clumsy fools. He was beyond intelligent and always had a way of making me smile or laugh should the day have brought me down." Pausing, she looked down at her hands. "Now it is I that wishes I had that mirror, so I might see him but one more time and ask his forgiveness for ever leaving."

The movement made by Maxym as she stood, masked the sound of someone stepping away from the chamber door.

"It sounds as though the both of you were very close."

Y/N nodded and smiled at the fire. "Indeed we were. He was and still is, my best friend and the person I trust the most in the Nine."


	7. The Trapped

"Are you certain this is the correct place?"

Ingrid said nothing. In truth it was not she who had lead herself and her parents to where they now were. The horses twitched beneath them and pawed at the ground. Even in the daylight the iron gates that loomed before them appeared frightening. The castle that rose behind the threshold sat at odds with the clear blue sky. It was all black stone and spires of impossible heights. Fiercesome gargoyles leered down at them, their stone fangs bared.

Beneath her, Ingrid felt Aurnia begin to shy away.

"I did not think I would ever see this place," Ingrid muttered, eyes raking over the imposing stone wall that crawled with thorns longer than her pinky. "Are you sure this is where you left her, dear girl?" She whispered to her mount.

Her only answer was a high pitched whinny that was echoed by the horses her parents rode.

"We have no way of knowing that she is here," Ingrid heard her mother say. "She may have already, by some miracle, found her way home."

"But what if she is beyond that gate?" Ingrid asked, twisting in her saddle to speak with her parents. "What if she is in there, with _him?"_

Silence answered her as all three looked at the castle. All in Asgard knew of the wards that kept those within the castle from escaping the grounds. It had been the surest way of keeping a dangerous criminal secure, until now.

"Her family must be informed," her father said, nodding resolutely.

"If they are, then what?" Ingrid asked, shivering not from the cold but from the strange chill that ran the length of her spine. "There is no way to breach these gates without becoming one of the trapped and I for one do not fancy being even in the same room as him."

Her mother nodded and pressed her lips into a thin, grim line.

"Then we must speak with the King," her father replied. "He cast the wards, so surely he must know of a way to secure her freedom without releasing that creature."

Ingrid shuddered at the mere memory of being told the second Prince's true heritage. Her father had sneered and proclaimed it only right that such a monster be kept behind bars, while her mother had very nearly fainted from the shock of it all. Ingrid however, had not let her own revulsion keep her thoughts on herself, but rather on her friend who had been worlds away. Had this news reached the Light Elves?

"Do you believe her family has informed her?" Her mother asked softly, eyeing the castle with more than a little trepidation.

"I certainly hope so," her father replied. "If only to give the poor thing a fair warning."

Ingrid said nothing as she stared up at the looming structure. Not a single aspect of it appeared to be friendly or remotely inviting. It was cold and cruel, it was the perfect home for its new master. Not a soul had ventured this close to the abandoned castle since the trial a decade before, not until now.

"The longer we dally the longer she remains at his mercy."

Ingrid found herself agreeing with her father on that one. She herself had always known of Y/N's close friendship with the younger Prince, something her own parents had never quite approved of. She prayed that she had been told of what had occurred.

The sensation of being watched washed over her as she and her parents turned to leave. Braving a glance over her shoulder, she looked back at the castle. Was she imaging things when she saw a flicker of movement in the window nearest to the main entrance? A flicker of ebony and green. Shaking her head, Ingrid banished the thought from her mind, but could not quite so easily banish the lingering feeling that another was watching her. Watching her closely.

He watched them until they had faded into the snow-laden forest. Their presence did not bode well, even as his mind suspected the reason behind it. A name came to mind. The name of the young woman currently under the very same roof as he.

He allowed himself a small smile before it disappeared entirely. When Garryn had run to him, panting and short of breath and had told him of what had taken place, Loki was sure he had heard the Norns cackling.

Maxym had come to him but a few hours later, informing him of the young woman's current state. A short moment of relief flooded through him before anger took its place. Anger and confusion. When had she gotten so careless and unthinking? Even so, her words to Maxym had warmed him in ways forgotten. Did she perhaps not know? Surely her family would have been more than eager to tell her of his fall from grace? Surely Fandral would have crowed it to her or perhaps his brother?

His thoughts souring, he turned from the window and made his way to the library. He had fashioned it from the many memories of the time spent in the palace back in the capital. The great doors swung open before him and closed as he crossed the threshold.

His book had been where he had left it when Garryn had come to get him. He had not had the mind to return to it and yet, even now his mind was distracted. Thoughts of the trio by the gate tormented him. No doubt they believed he had taken her by force. Kidnapped her.

He had not sunk so low as to meet their expectations.

Settling himself against the window that bore a beautiful resemblance to the world tree, he opened his book. _"He was and still is, my best friend and the person I trust the most in the Nine."_

Sighing in frustration, he set the book aside and looked out across the grounds, painted golden by the stained glass. Those words of hers alone told him that she remained ignorant and they clawed at his heart, demanding entrance. Trust, not something she gave away without a thought. The number of those she trusted could be counted on one hand. Her friends too were limited in number. Would she revoke it the moment she knew the truth?

His thoughts that had been rapidly spirally downwards came to a screeching halt as he heard the doors open. He did not have to look to know who it would be. He had heard Maxym's soft voice tell her where she was. Her whispered thanks reached him even from where he sat.

The moment the doors closed behind her, Y/N struggled not to squeal with joy. The familiarity tugged at her heartstrings and she sighed in delight. The carpet beneath her slippered feet was plush and of a deep midnight blue. It muffled her footsteps as she approached the first shelf. Despite her excitement, she dared not touch anything. It would not do to repay the kindness of the mysterious master with such disrespect.

Her eyes travelled everywhere as she wandered through the forrest of shelves and she gasped softly when she caught sight of the hearth. Hurrying toward it, she stretched out her hands and sighed in bliss as the warmth spread through her. The library's high vaulted ceiling reminded her of the royal library back in the capital. She would make a point of going there as soon as she got word that Loki had returned.

The fabric of her dress rustled softly against the carpet as she turned, her face now to the fire. Raising her arms so her hands rested on the carved granite mantle, she leaned a touch forward.

Her unseen observer watched her. The loose strands of her hair illuminated by the fire's glow, the dark green of her [gown](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/german-dress-with-velvet-accents-german-rose) standing in pleasant contrast to the dark of the hearth, the firelight catching on the buttons that secured the wrist-length sleeves.

Turning away, he turned his back to her and resumed his earlier post. Snow had begun to fall again, though gentler this time.

Though she was loathe to leave the fire, she knew that she would begin to sweat if she remained as close as she was. Stepping away, she turned and saw the couches huddled before the fireplace in a loose half circle. A book on one of them caught her eye and made he frown in confusion. Daring to sit on the plush furnishing, she cast a quick glance around as though the master would spring from between the shelves and reprimand her.

Hesitantly taking hold of the book, she brought it close so she might better make out the title. A smile curved her lips upon seeing that it was an old favourite of hers. A book she had read countless times over and never grew tired of. It was a complete listing of all the medicinal and healing plants in the Nine, complete with their names and descriptions as well as how they might be prepared and used.

Delighted, she opened it and felt the familiar weight of it settle in her lap and so, time passed her by. She soon lost track of it as she continued to read, the library and castle having long since disappeared.

It was the softest noise that brought her crashing back to the present. Blinking, she looked away from her reading and looked around. Nothing appeared amiss and she would have returned to her reading had she not become suddenly aware of the darkness beyond the castle walls. Closing the book, she set it gently to the side and stood, feeling her back groan as she did.

Stopping at the library threshold, she looked back and smiled softly and placed a hand over her heart. "Thank you," she said softly. "I know not who you are, but I thank you." With those words, she swept away, only to be met with Maxym's motherly scolding her for being late for dinner.

"Dinner? Will the master be there?"

The statue shook her head. "He rarely eats in the dining room, miss. He always takes his meals in his chambers."

"But why?" Y/N asked, confused.

Maxym sighed. "I suppose it is because he does not wish to feel even more lonely than he already does."

"But I am here now," Y/N protested, earning a smile from Maxym. "Surely that would count for company?"

"Indeed it would, miss," Maxym replied. "But you must understand, the master has had only us for company for the last ten years, your presence may take him a little while to acclimate to. Please do not take offense, miss. That is simply how he is."

Y/N hummed and nodded. He reminded her painfully of Loki. He had shyly made it known to her that she had been his only true friend and she had seen the light dusting of pink on his pale cheeks. It had taken a great deal of courage for him to admit that to her. "There is none taken," she murmured, only to hear a sigh of relief from her companion.

As Maxym guided her charge back to her chambers, they crossed paths with Garryn who gave them a smile and a nod before continuing on.

"Where is he going?"

"To see to the master," Maxym replied. "He forgets to eat sometimes, sometimes even sleep eludes him."

Before Maxym could so much as call for her, Y/N had spun on her heels and tore off after the retreating form of Garryn. Using a spell to muffle her footfalls, she barely registered that Maxym had given chase.

The pursuit took her to a completely different wing of the castle, one that was no less opulent. Sticking to the shadows, she saw Garryn enter a chamber at the end of the long corridor. Stepping into the hall, she padded towards the door, her breath rattling through her as she fought to calm herself. With trembling hands, she took hold of the polished golden handle and turned it, opening the door but a sliver.

Through the small gap she could easily see Garryn move around the lavish chambers. Chambers she could make out to be decorated in rich tones of green and gold. Every inch a royal residence. She longed to see more but did not dare open the door further.

"I have your supper here, master," she heard Garryn say and her heart leapt within her. The elusive master was there then. Would she finally have the chance to see him?

"I thank you," said another voice, masculine and strangely familiar. "But I am not hungry tonight, I fear I have no appetite."

"You must care for yourself, master," Garryn replied. "I cannot sit idly by while you waste away."

"My mind is much too preoccupied," the master said.

"It has been so since the moment you arrived, has it not, master?"

The master sighed. "It burnt a little more today," he said so softly that Y/N had to strain to hear it. "One more flake of ash to add to the pile beneath it."

"I know, master," Garryn said, sounding sad. "I saw it when I went in search for you. Where were you?"

Then came an answer that made her heart drop to her stomach. "I was in the library for a good portion of the afternoon."

"As was our guest," Garryn said and Y/N swore she could hear him smile.

"I know," the master replied. "Maxym must have shown her. Though I believe it was only a matter of time before she found it." Here he paused and sighed. "She always did have a knack for finding her way to wherever books might be."

Y/N was startled. While this was indeed true, how did this man know it? She did not even know who he was!

"You are acquainted with her then?" Garryn asked, voicing her thoughts.

A few moments passed before their answer came. It was soft, a whisper that bore the barest hint of a tremble. "I was, yes. A very long time ago."

Shock rippled through her, rendering her unable to move. It was only Maxym's hurried movements that pulled her away from the door. Her eyes lingered on the gap and at the very last moment caught sight of a figure step into view, back to her. She had only enough time to see that his hair was long enough to reach a little past his shoulders and was as black as a raven's wing.

Maxym said nothing to her as she steered her back to her chambers. Her expression was enough to silence any questions. Questions that she undoubtedly already had some of the answers to. She had finally seen the master. Well the back of him at least. She had heard him too, the sound of his voice never quite leaving her and following her into her dreams, right alongside the haunting image of a burning rose.


	8. An Audience with the King

It had indeed been some time since the royal family had received visitors in such an unannounced fashion.

One moment Frigga had been trimming the wayward stems off her winter rose bushes, then she was in the throne room standing beside her husband. Before them stood a group of six and one small child. A girl.

It did not take Frigga long to recognise the members of the group, causing a frown to form. Was there not one member missing? She distinctly remembered Thor telling her of the young woman's return. Where was she?

As she studied the group, Odin spoke. "What is the meaning of this, Lord Václav? Why was a messenger not sent as custom dictates?"

The Lord in question, Y/N's father, bowed before replying. "I apologise for the sudden nature of our visit, Your Majesties. It is simply because the news we bring is most alarming and we find ourselves in a rather dire situation, for which we humbly beg your help."

Intrigued, Frigga took a step forward and smiled gently at the little girl who smiled shyly back. "Your apology is accepted, my Lord. However, what is this news that had you hurrying to our door?"

Václav exchanged a glance with his wife and yet it was his son, the young Lord Viggó who spoke. "It concerns my sister, Your Majesty. Not the one who stands beside me, but rather the one who is not. She returned to us not one week ago."

Frigga raised an eyebrow. "Where might she be?"

Silence answered and Odin made to prompt them to answer them when Viggó said, "the northern mountains."

"The mountains are many in number," Frigga said, folding her hands together. "You mean to say that your sister lost her way? It is not all that uncommon and she has been absent for some time, therefore the once familiar landscape may appear foreign."

The young lord shook his head as the Queen spoke and waited a breath before replying. "I am afraid you misunderstand me, Your Majesty."

"Oh? How so?"

Even with the Queen's attention resting solely on him, Viggó did not falter. Worry for his sibling strengthened his resolve and lifted his chin to fearlessly meet the Queen's gaze. "The fault is mine. I did not detail where in the mountains she is."

"And where might that be?" Frigga asked.

"A castle," he explained, waiting to see even a spark of recognition in the eyes of the two monarchs. "A castle that, up until ten years ago, was abandoned."

The Queen gave nothing away. Her features remained in an expression of mild interest and her voice bore only tones of patience. "Is that so? What proof have you that your sister is there?"

"Your Majesty," the young Lady Ingrid stepped forward, hands clasped together. "We were journeying together to my family's estate when a rather vicious snow storm came upon us. We were separated and while I am able to find my way home, she did not. Later that night, her own horse comes trotting into our courtyard, with no rider. A little while later, my parents and I took it upon ourselves to locate her and her steed brought us to the gates of _that_ castle." She shivered at the memory of the snarling gargoyles and the needle-sharp thorns.

"I see," Frigga murmurs and nods as though in thanks. "Forgive me, my lords, my ladies, but how might His Majesty and I be of help to you? You all know of the wards that surround that place. Those who enter cannot leave."

"We know it well, Your Majesties," Václav says at last, seeming to have found his voice again. "We simply seek the return of our daughter and sister. She has been gone from us for some time and to lose her to such a fate, well, I have not the words to describe it."

"Such a fate?" The Queen asked, her kind eyes swiftly turning their attention on the elder Lord, their edges hardening but a fraction.

"Indeed, Your Majesty," he continued. "Isolation may fit well for a condemned criminal, but not for our Y/N. She is yet young and has only recently completed her studies. She yearns to aid and heal, using her natural born seidr and her plants to do so. She cannot fulfill her dream from behind a warded gate."

Averting her gaze to look upon the young girl that stood with the woman that was likely her mother, Frigga smiled softly. 

_Was he not deserving of the same chances?_

"The wards cannot be lifted," Odin said in reply. "Their power will not fade for anyone, not even for the one who erected them. Those who reside beyond them will remain there."

"Your Majesty, please," it was Y/N's mother who spoke now. She spoke not to the King, but to the Queen. One mother to another.

Frigga looked away from the girl to meet the woman's pleading gaze. Had she not begged the same of her husband all those years ago? One glimpse had been all she wanted, one word with her youngest. Every request had been denied. "If there were such a way," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Do you not believe that I would have found it?"

Viggó was not deterred. "We do not ask for the wards to fall, Majesties. Simply a weakening in them to allow her freedom."

The King shook his head. "I cannot risk the safety of my people for the sake of one who lost her way."

"I beg of you," Václav tried again, his pride and dignity having been swept aside. His knees folded so he might kneel before his liege. "She is my daughter. The prisoner need not be made aware of the lapse, only she."

The Queen had closed her eyes for a moment before opening them once more. "Impossible."

"What Her Majesty means to say," Odin said, "is that such a feat would not likely be able to happen. For both shall feel it should the wards weaken for even a moment. Seidr is known intimately by both your daughter and the prisoner."

"What proof have you that she is there?" Frigga asked, surprising them all. "Indeed, the steed's memory is to be commended but what is to say that your daughter did not wander off elsewhere and seek shelter in the surrounding woods?"

All were silent until Ingrid spoke again. "I saw movement, just as my parents and I were making to leave. I was being watched by someone or something within the castle."

_He still lives. Beyond her reach and embrace. But he lives._

"I shall endeavour to speak with the prisoner," Odin says at last, drawing a look of surprise from all. "If she is indeed there, then he shall be made to give her up."

Frigga was sure she was imagining her husband's words. After all these years. After all these years she might see him again. She might hear him again.

"You will weaken the wards?" Viggó asked, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"I make no promises," Odin replied. "I shall send a messenger with word of the outcome, you may go."

Frigga leaves only a breath after the two families do. She spares not a glance for her husband as she leaves the throne room behind. Making for her private chambers, she swiftly closed the doors behind her. The moment she stood at the centre of her sitting rooms, she let it all go. All the emotions that been brought to the surface just a few moments ago.

That man had not had the respect to refer to her son by his title proper. _Condemned criminal. Prisoner._ Why, she shuddered in memory and a white hot anger flared to life within her. It was trial enough to hear such words from her husband.

Gathering herself together, the Queen of Asgard walked to stand before a lit brazier. Many times she had tried before and each was met with a wall of resistance. From Odin or Loki, she knew not. Closing her eyes, she focused her seidr and calmed her mind as much as she was able.

Drawing to her mind the memory of him, she pushed her seidr out, urging it to seek his and meld. It did not take long for the familiar resistance to be met, cold and hard and unforgiving. Much like his sentence. She would never forget the look in his eyes as the full weight of it all crashed down around him. It was likely they would never see each other again, much less speak again.

Oh what she would give to hold him in her arms but once more. To ask him why he had done all that he was accused of. To remind him of a very simple and basic truth, that she loved him. Even if no one else in the Nine would. Even if the Nine turned their back on him, she would be there. She would always be there.

_"Amma..."_

That word. The memory of that word, spoken from his heart to hers that fateful day. Why, she had fought not to lose composure then and there. In that word she heard her son, desperate for comfort as he was taken from her forever. It had very nearly brought her to her knees right there before the crowd. Her arms had ached as they hung uselessly at her sides, they had ached to hold him as she had done so many times before.

Frigga had held his gaze right up until he had been taken from her sight. 

_"My precious one..."_

In his eyes she had seen that he had heard her. Relief beyond measure and a love returned. Why had Asgard not seen it? Why had they not given him a chance to explain and defend himself? Frigga knew why. Long before his return, a decision had been reached.

In her heart of hearts she prayed that Y/N was there. A single tear traced its way down her cheek and dropped onto the thick carpet below. Yes, she prayed for that. That her dear, precious boy would finally have the company of the one other person in the Nine that would be able to chase his demons away. Or, at the very least, keep them at bay.

Raising her right hand, Frigga sought the pendant that hung around her neck and was never seen elsewhere. A starling. Loki's favourite bird and carved by him as a gift for her. Her fingers curled around it and she clutched it tight. To the point of pain. Another tear chased its predecessor and soon she was weeping as she had done on that day. "I miss you," she whispered as though he could hear her. "So very much, my little one." 


	9. Of Silver and Crystal

It was indeed a curious thing, how such a small and seemingly insignificant object could hold more details than most minds. Smiling faintly, he looked to the object in his hands. Large enough to be held by both hands, he handled it with the utmost delicacy. Wrought out of silver and crystals it was, and simple when held in comparison to the gifts his brother had often received.

It had not mattered then and it did not matter now.

It had been given to him during the first week of Spring, some thirteen years ago now and yet, he remembered it as clearly as ever...

_Wearing a[gown](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/linen-dress-with-embroidered-sleeves-fairy-tale) that was better suited to a townswoman than a Lady of her station, she had marched into the palace. Head held high and with a sparkle in her eyes, she ignored the whispers and mutterings of the court ladies she passed. She knew well their derision and their scorn, it was nothing new. _

_"Ah, my fair lady," a voice called out from somewhere behind her, causing her to sigh. She did not have to guess who that might be. In all honesty, she had hoped to avoid to him, to slip his notice entirely so she might actually spend time with the person she had come to see._

_Hearing her name being called from a short ways behind her, she was forced to slow and paint on a pleasant smile. "Fandral," she greeted and nodded to the trio standing behind him. "Sif. Volstagg. Hogun." Each nodded in turn._

_"Where might one as beautiful as yourself be off to on such a fine Spring day?" Fandral asked, stepping closer and flashed a smile._

_"To speak with a friend in the library and then spend some time with the same friend in the royal glasshouse," she explained promptly. "Does that satisfy your curiosity?"_

_"Not in the slightest," he replied before taking her left hand and raising it to his lips. "Surely it is a much too lovely a day to spend holed up amongst duty tomes?"_

_Carefully retracting her hand so as to appear some measure of polite, she forced her smile to remain. "There are those of us who enjoy the company of dusty tomes, as you so eloquently put it. I find them to better company than most people. Now, if you will excuse me." With those words, she spun on her heel and continued on her way._

_"Are you certain of her, Fandral?" Volstagg asked, sidling up to his friend. He eyed her form as it grew smaller. "She seems terribly constant in her refusal of you."_

_"Indeed," Hogun muttered, earning a hum of agreement from Sif._

_"It is no matter, my friends," the blond warrior assured them all. "For had she given in the first time, I am sure I would have been most disappointed. She simply wishes to make it a challenge for me."_

_"Yes, well," Sif said. "I wish you the best of luck with that. You may have to compete with His Highness in that regard."_

_"Thor?" Fandral asked, confused._

_"No," Sif shook her head. "His brother. Those two are awfully close. I suspect it is him she is off to spend the day with, that is the only reason she ever comes to the palace anymore. Otherwise she is too busy with those plants of hers, or so her brother tells me. He says she even speaks to them sometimes."_

_"Speaks to the plants?" Volstagg repeated, the beginnings of a laugh rumbling deep in his chest. "Do you suppose they answer?"_

_Their laughter echoed down the hall to where she was. She had heard well what they had said and she shook her head. Of course she spoke with her plants, how else was she to offer them encouragement?_

_"You don't suppose he will give up any time soon?"_

_The voice had her spin on her heels and face the speaker, a broad smile at the ready. "Loki," she breathed._

_"Hello, snowdrop." His verdant eyes sparkled gently with the smile he gave her._

_"To answer your question," she said as they walked side by side through the stone galleries that ringed one of the many gardens. "No, I do not believe he ever will."_

_Loki regarded her with a raised brow._

_"He seems to think that the cheap words he uses with the court ladies will work on me," she muttered. "Just how often must I say no? Shall I say it in a different language perhaps?"_

_"I wouldn't bother," Loki said, sporting the beginnings of a smirk that always spelled trouble. "He would not be able to understand you anyway."_

_Sighing, she nodded. "I suppose you are right, but it is getting rather tiresome."_

_"Well," Loki murmured, looking her way and wrapping an arm around her shoulders so he might draw her close and whisper his plan in her ear. They continued to walk as he detailed everything. Her occasional giggles would draw disapproving looks their way, those that saw them shook their heads. It was not proper for a Prince of the Realm to behave in such a manner with a Lady he was not courting._

_"That is simply perfect," she gushed as they entered the library. "Please may I be there when you execute it?"_

_The Prince placed a hand over his heart to feign hurt. "I believed the invitation to be implied."_

_Rolling her eyes and swatting his arm, she brushed past him and made her way to their favoured reading nook. Looking over her shoulder, she found him watching her. "What?"_

_Shaking himself, Loki offered her a smile reserved only for her in precious moments such as these. "Nothing."_

_Shaking her head and laughing softly, she settled herself amongst the cushions, soon feeling the familiar weight of her best friend sit beside her. It did not take long for their arrangement to be the one they favoured during moments when there was no one to see them. Her legs were soon resting atop his, causing her gown to completely cover his own legs down from the knee._

_The silence of the library soon settled over them and allowed them the peace that could not be found within the palace's golden corridors. The cares of the outside world had been shut away._

_It was only when she had read the very last word of the book she had started the day before, that she looked over to where Loki had begun a new one. Shifting a little closer, she rested her head on his shoulder and hummed softly._

_"What is it?" He asked softly, eyes still on the page._

_"I would hate to interrupt your reading, especially now that you have begun on a new book-"_

_"Never mind the book," he said, setting the book aside and taking her hands in his. "What is it, snowdrop?"_

_Smiling at the nickname, she took a moment before lifting her head from his shoulder and meeting his questioning eyes. "My curiosity will not give me a moment's peace and in your letter you said we might pay a visit to the-"_

_"Glasshouse," Loki finished for her, "yes, I do recall."_

_Within moments that was where they were, standing beneath a roof made entirely of glass panels to let in what light there was to the plants beneath. The Prince watched with a small smile as she gasped in delight and spun in place, taking in as much as she could._

_"Why," she breathed, seemingly overcome. "It is more beautiful than anything my mind had thus far conjured up."_

_Her words rang true, for the inside of the royal glasshouse was like stepping into a new world entirely. All around them the various plants blossomed and flourished, buds of rich magenta and striking, cheery yellow and deep green foliage._

_"Mother takes great pride in this place," Loki heard himself say. "It is her garden during the winter time."_

_"I can well imagine," his companion murmured, kneeling down by a patch of dirt with her hand hovering over it. Soon a soft glow emanated from her hand and curled into the dark earth below. It was not long before Loki saw what she had done, for now in the place of the dirt grew a patch of white bell-shaped flowers. They were delicate in appearance, with elegant stems that bore no leaves along their lengths._

_"Snowdrops," he observed absently._

_She nodded and plucked one, but did not give it to him. Standing, she covered the flower with her free hand and closed her eyes. Loki watched as her lips moved with words he couldn't hear. When at last she opened her eyes, she smiled at him and extended her hands to him. "For you," she said._

_Looking to her hands, he saw that the flower she had plucked a few moments before was now a[creation](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/Ab41G7P_QAZSpfHWKj4qdbyVMBwxfVCkzG6Ju8aYr4Af63su-gNwk-8/) of silver and crystal. "Me?" He asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. _

_Her smile grew in warmth as she nodded. "Yes," she replied._

_"Why?"_

_"Because I wish to," she said, gently passing over the crystalline flower. "Is that not reason enough?"_

_It took him a moment before he nodded, subtly tightening his hands around the gift. "I suppose it is. But why a snowdrop? I know it is the name by which I address you, but there are so many flowers in this place from which to choose."_

_"I know," she said and lightly touched a plant that had grown to her hip height. "But this is my favourite, so I thought it only right."_

_"What does it mean?"_

_Her eyes were full of surprise, with a touch of confusion. "Mean?"_

_He nodded. "The flower. You once said that most plants and flowers carry a special meaning with them. What is the one for this flower?"_

Her touch on his hand had been as soft as her smile as she had given him the answer. That answer that stayed with him and haunted him should he so much as glance at the flower. Her eyes had been gentle and kind as she had looked up at him. Her voice had whispered the answer to him as though it were some great secret, something to be heard only by him.

_"As it is the first to grow after Winter has passed and Spring has come, it carries the meaning of hope."_


	10. Curiosity made the Cat fall

She did not think it possible for the castle to be any taller. But in the daylight it appeared to pierce the very clouds that drifted above them, heavy with impending snow.

Narrowing her eyes, she attempted to figure out which of the many windows could lead to the chambers of the elusive master. Many of the windows bore balconies, some larger than others. Which one could possibly be his?

Her silent observation was soon interrupted by the sound of footfalls in the snow and Garryn calling her name. The statue came to a halt beside her. "What are you doing out here, miss? You will catch your death in this cold."

Chuckling, she shook her head and motioned to the [ensemble](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/wool-cape-with-nautilus-shell-trim-sea-born) she wore. A deep blue woolen cloak was curled around her neck and shoulders, giving a full view of the warm orange of her gown and the even deeper blue of her underskirt. "It is sweet of you to worry, Garryn," she said. "But as you can see, I am suitably attired. Your master has been most kind and thoughtful in his supply of adequate clothing for such weather."

"Indeed he has," Garryn replied and nodded towards the castle. "What had captured your attention before I came?"

It was a moment before she answered, having carefully considered her choice of words. It would not do to draw his suspicion. "The sheer enormity of the place. Why, I cannot even begin to imagine how many rooms there might be to have so many windows. Do you know?" She asked, looking to him.

Garryn shook his head and smiled. "No. Indeed I do not. Nor do I care to know, for I know I would soon lose count."

"I suppose that makes sense," she murmured and looked back to the castle, a stark black against the pure white of the snow. Fiddling with the nautilus shell embroidery at her cloak's edge, she asked, "what is your earliest memory of the master?" Her voice was soft, as though she were afraid the man himself could hear her. "When you first came to life, that is."

The smile on Garryn's face became distant and a little softer. "I remember his voice," he replied, "it was the first thing I heard. It was soft and kind, as though speaking with a new friend. Then, I saw his hand, sheathed in black as he reached out to me and helped me stand. His eyes were as gentle as his voice had been, but I saw an edge glimmering there, like a hidden blade."

"What was he like?" She asked, "did he keep to the shadows as he does now?"

Garryn shook his head. "It has been so long, but I recall the master wandering the grounds. I would only learn later that he was testing to see how far the wards of the gate stretched."

"Wards?"

"Indeed," Garryn replied. "What else do you believe is keeping you here? You yourself tried to breach them, did you not?"

Absently she nodded. She remembered well that night, running and desperate. The biting cold of the iron as she had poured every ounce of seidr into her hands. "Then why did he come here?" She asked softly, looking up at the castle once more. "Why did he choose to come here if he cannot leave?"

For that, Garryn gave no answer.

"When I first came I saw a rose. It was burning, but very slowly. Do you know it?"

For this, he nodded. "We all do, miss. The master had brought it with him, that is what he told us. He asked us never to touch it, so when you did, well," here he paused and followed her gaze, sighing. "He did not take kindly to it."

"That cry," she murmured, casting her mind back. "That was him?"

Garryn nodded. "Indeed. But tell me, miss, did the flames burn you?"

Looking to him, she shook her head, her eyes slightly narrowed in thought. "No, I do not believe they did. Why do you ask?"

Garryn shrugged. "Simple curiosity."

While she sensed there was more than those two simple words, she let the matter lie. "Well," she said, "would it be alright if I were to go for a walk about the grounds? I wouldn't go far."

Garryn's smile was warm and reminded her of the indulgent smiles her father often gave her. The sharp pang to her heart she was unprepared for, thus causing a hitch in her breathing before she composed herself. "Of course you may. We can hardly expect it of you to remain inside all day."

Gathering her skirts in hand, she nodded and smiled back before turning away and making her way to an elaborate series of hedges. Even under a thick coating of snow, they towered over her and stretched the circular length of the castle. Letting her gloved fingers dance along the bare branches as she walked alongside, she soon found her attention taken up by the towering palace once more.

Abandoning the hedge maze, she chanced a glance around and soon made certain that she was indeed alone, only now she stood at another point along the walls, with different windows. Craning her neck, she looked up and sighed. Which one was his? Wrapping her hands in her cloak, she squinted. Would there be a hint of the green and gold she had seen earlier? Curtains perhaps? _No,_ she shook her head, _too obvious. Much too obvious._

Her thoughts and theories were brought to a halt by a flicker of movement from the window to her right and quite a distance from the ground. She felt her eyes widen and a smile form. Approaching the wall, she scoured the surface for any kind of handhold or gaps she might use to stand.

The handholds she found were far between, but not impossible and she refused to waste this chance. Even if it meant climbing in through his window. A snort of laughter escaped her before she could stop it.

Casting her cloak off, she squared her shoulders and called upon her seidr for a little more security, heights had always made her knees weak in the most unflattering way. The stone was cold to the touch and so the gloves remained. Taking a deep breath and eyeing the selected window, she noted with some relief that a rather large balcony accompanied it.

She soon found however, that despite the snow and ice that seemed to coat every surface, the castle walls were not so. They were rough to the touch. She knew she made for quite the sight and soon the faces of the courtiers sprung to mind with their expressions of disapproval and thinly veiled mutterings. _If only they could see me_ now, she thought with a smirk and continued to climb, her skirts hitched around her waist, thus exposing her booted feet and stockinged legs.

So focused was she on not glancing downwards that she failed to hear Maxym call her name. It was not until the balcony was within reaching distance that her calling finally caught up with the young woman.

With a jolt, she looked down and gasped before clinging to the stone. She had not realised she was that high up already. Forcing herself to look down, she smiled at Maxym, hoping the distance would be enough to hide the shaking in the expression and the tremble in her voice as she called down. "You called?"

With all the exasperation of a mother, Maxym planted her hands on her hips and blew out a breath. "Of course I did," she replied. "What in the Nine do you think you are doing?"

"Exploring," came the answer from her charge who was grinning down at her.

"You had best come down from there, miss," Maxym called up and gestured with her hand. " 'Tis not safe for you, or for anyone. I should hate for you to fall and injure yourself."

"I shan't fall."

In that moment Maxym swore she sounded like a child caught doing something they had been told was forbidden. "You say that now, miss," she replied and cast her eyes toward the room she so happened to be near. How had their guest managed to figure it out so quickly?

"I promise you, Maxym, I shall be down in just a moment."

"And when shall that moment be, I wonder? I am not leaving without you, miss."

The younger woman looked to sigh and rested her cheek against the cold stone. She should have known Maxym or Garryn would find her eventually, she had only hoped to have actually discovered something by that time.

There was one problem however. A rather large one. How was she to get down? It could certainly not be the way she had come up and it was too far to jump, even if the snow looked to be thick enough to cushion her fall. She had hoped to be back within the castle by the time she was discovered, not on its walls some way above the ground.

Closing her eyes, she sought to calm her racing heart and prayed to the Norns that her legs would stop shaking.

"Come on down now, miss," she heard Maxym call again. The statue was persistent, she would admit that much.

Seeing but one way forward, she dared to extend a hand and curl it around the stone railings of the master's balcony. Her hand shook violently as she stretched over the small gap, pointedly ignoring Maxym.

It all happened so quickly. One moment she had been relatively secure against the stone, the next her foot had slipped. So there she was, clinging for all she was worth with one hand to the railings. Below her she could hear Maxym's frantic and panicked calls of her name. Her feet dangled all too freely beneath her, with no hope of finding purchase on the balcony's underside.

On the inside of her gloves, she felt her palms slide with the sweat that had built up during the climb and now after the slip. If they continued to slip, she would fall and no doubt bruise more than her ego. Maxym's calls faded as she concentrated on gripping the cold stone. If only she could manage to reach up with her other hand, but no. The adrenaline that coursed through her now was different and she had little strength and a strong fear.

If she fell, she would not hear the end of it from Maxym. Lectures would follow her inevitable descent into the snow. She became vaguely aware of Garryn's arrival, but did not hear him.

 _This is it, they will never let me out of their sight again,_ she thought miserably. _Well done,_ she dryly congratulated herself, _you have really gone and done it now._

"Jump, miss," Garryn called up to her, startling her so bad she almost let go. "The snow is thick enough."

Vehemently shaking her head, she rested her head against the cold stone. "No," she shouted back in a fit of defiance.

"You cannot remain there forever, miss."

It was proving harder and harder to remain calm. In fact, calm had long since fled the scene. "That was not my plan," she muttered in retort and readjusted her grip as she had begun to slip again. How many times would she be able to do so before she fell?

"Please jump, miss," Maxym pleaded, no doubt clasping her hands together. "It is past noon and I fear a storm may be imminent."

A storm, the very last thing she needed to hear at present. The wind alone at such a height would be enough to blow her off and with her grip slowly weakening, it would take but a single gust and she would be in the snow below. That thought alone sent a shiver down her spine that had little to do with the cold.

In order to further distract herself, she looked up and saw that the topmost tip of the tallest tower was completely swallowed by cloud.

"Miss, please-!"

She is not quite sure what accomplishes it. Was it perhaps her hand that had begun to slide from the glove again? Or had her grip itself begun to lack strength? Whichever it was, she fell, tumbling towards the snow with Maxym and Garryn watching on in horror.

All this, the terror of falling was brought to an abrupt halt when a hand latched itself around her wrist, thus catching her. With a gasp and her blood rushing in her ears, she looks to the hand and saw that it was ungloved and pale. Long, fine-boned fingers were curled around her wrist, holding her secure.

She knows this hand. She would know it by description or sight from among many. It was slender and yet held a strength that many did not have. Her breathing became shallow and quick when a soft voice came from above her. "I have you."

With her heart hammering in her chest, she looked up. Her hand curled to take hold of his forearm and grip it tight as tears distorted her vision and emotion lodged all words but one in her throat. "Loki?"


	11. To see you again

"Give me your other hand," he said, appearing not to have heard her.

She frantically shook her head and her fingers dug into his arm hard enough to leave bruises. "I can't," she replied, her voice trembling and looked down at her hand that dangled uselessly at her side.

"Do not look down," he told her firmly, but not unkindly. "Only up. Now, reach up with your free hand."

Again she shook her head, even as she attempted to reach toward him. As her arm reached higher, she felt the smallest shift in his grip and cried out, meeting his eyes with tears in hers. "Don't let go," she whimpered. "Don't let me fall."

Something in his eyes changed at her words. "Fret not," he said. "You shall not fall."

Her free hand shook violently as it rose to meet his outstretched one. The moment he caught hold of it, he pulled and in one fluid motion he had brought her up and over the railing to stand on the balcony.

The moment her feet touched solid ground she let go of his hands and rose to her tiptoes, her arms coming to wind tightly around his neck and shoulders. The tears in her eyes now came flooding down her cheeks as she did nothing to stop them. She said nothing as she wept, her face buried against him.

Drawing back after a moment, she lifted her face and met her gaze with his. A watery smile curved her lips and trembled at the edges as her hands came to lightly cup his face. "I have missed you so," she whispered.

He did nothing but watch her. She was unchanged and yet there was something undeniably different about her. _I missed you too._

"Your hair is longer," she murmured, running her fingers through the dark strands.

_Yours is the same, a touch lighter perhaps._

"Twelve years is a long time," she said softly, "and yet you have not said one word in greeting. Are you angry?"

He shook his head. _No_. _Never. Not with you._

Reaching for his hands, she took them in her own. "What has transpired in our years apart for you to be so distant with me? Was it something I had said in my letters? Is that why you no longer responded?"

 _Letters?_ He had not received a single piece of correspondence since his arrival at the mountain palace. A sad smile pulled at his lips as he regarded her. _Dreams became nightmares and all the truths I knew were revealed to be naught but lies._

"Will you not tell me?" She asked, canting her head to the side. "You who once told me everything?"

"Some things are best not spoken of," he finally said. "I am sorry."

Closing her eyes, she nodded, a single tear escaping from beneath her lashes. "I had hoped to see you on my return home," she said, avoiding his gaze. "Ten years is a long time for the mirrors to be silent."

"Indeed."

"The mirror I gave you," she said, looking up at him. "Do you have it still?"

He nodded.

"Then why did you not call for me?" She asked, grasping him by the forearms. "What did I do for you to come to despise me so?" The desperation in her eyes and voice threatened his resolve.

_It is my own reflection that I despise. Not you._

"Please tell me," she begged, eyes filling with tears again. "Please. I have missed you terribly and all I wanted was to see you again-" her breathing hitched and she swallowed past the lump in her throat.

As a response formed in his mind, the doors to his chambers swung open and Maxym and Garryn burst in. Maxym who went straight for her and proceeded to bundle her from the room. Halting the statue for a moment, she turned and looked back at him and found him watching her. For a moment it seemed as though she was to say something, but then she turned and swept from the rooms.

When the doors closed, he turned back to the balcony and closed his eyes, bowing low. "She must go," he said softly, hoping Garryn might hear him. "The first chance there is, she must go."

"But master, surely-"

"No," he held up a hand, cutting the statue off. "I will not condemn her to a life with me in this accursed place. Asgard needs her. Her family needs her. She cannot remain here."

Sighing, Garryn regarded his master with sad eyes. "What of you, master?"

A cold laugh broke from him. "What of me? I am a criminal, charged with crimes most heinous. What of me? I am no better than those creatures I was born amongst."

"The hand that carries the rose is hers, is it not?"

Nodding, Loki remained silent.

"Then she must be the one," Garryn continued, daring to take a step closer. "The one who-"

"I said no. She will return to her people. To those that love and cherish her. To those that miss her."

"Did you not miss her?" Garryn dared to ask.

 _More than the flower misses the sun in the barren wintertime._ "What I feel is of no consequence. She will go and that is the end of it."

The moment Garryn had departed, he took up the mirror from where it lay on the sofa by the fire. It was fine thing, a creation of gold and inlaid with emerald. The mirror itself was of the finest glass. Taking a breath, he asked to see her.

Unaware of her observer, she now lay on the bed, curled and facing the fire. Tear tracks marked her skin and the sight of them and the knowledge that he had caused them tore at the strings of his own tainted heart.

He had no business wishing for her company as he had done in years past. She did not belong with the cursed. She did not belong with the forgotten and abandoned.

It was her soft utterance of his name that tore a ragged gasp from him. "Oh, Loki," she whispered, looking down at the ring she wore before pressing a kiss to it. Holding that hand close, she closed her eyes and wept.

Breaking the connection, he lay the mirror face-down and left the room.

In her borrowed chambers, she lay. Curled in the room's warmth, she looked to the fire. This was not how she had hoped to see him again. Was she a fool for believing nothing to have changed between them? Events had clearly occurred that she had no knowledge of and they had changed him. They had changed him to appear almost as a stranger before her.

What had happened into those ten years of silence? What had happened for him to leave the capital? What had happened for his eyes to look so haunted and his smiles so sad? Gone were the ever present sparks of mischief that had always made his eyes glitter.

Shaking her head, she curled tighter into the bed's many blankets.It would not do to harbour such questions when it was so unlikely that she would ever get an answer.

The opening of her chamber door drew her attention to Maxym as she entered carrying a tray. The soft, aromatic scent of tea drifted to her and was accompanied by the gentle clinking of the fine porcelain.

"Here we are, miss," Maxym said, passing over a steaming cup that sat on a floral saucer. "That should help to warm you through."

Nodding and shifting to sit up with the blankets tucked around her legs, she accepted the tea. "Thank you," she murmured and blew lightly on the tea.

"You know the master?"

She said nothing at first, merely looking into her cup and seeing her reflection in the tea. When at last she spoke, it was in a voice softer than a whisper. "Perhaps once."

Maxym furrowed her brow in confusion. "Why do you say that, miss?"

"Because he is changed. Change is inevitable, that I know. But twelve years is a long time and something has happened, perhaps many things," sighing, she set down her cup on the nightstand and fiddled with the ring she wore. "I should never have left," she muttered, biting her lip.

"Where did you go?"

"Alfheim," she replied. "To further my education. My parents had secured a position for me and since it would help me achieve my dream, I agreed to go."

"What did you wish to learn more of?" Maxym asked.

"Healing mostly," Y/N replied. "Herbology too. I wish to be a healer."

Maxym regarded her young charge for a few moments before speaking again. "Was that always your dream? Your wish?"

"Yes."

"What inspired it? Is that a usual occupation for noblewomen?"

Y/N shook her head and smiled weakly. "No. Women such as I do not work. We do not need to. But I wanted to and the townspeople and those that know my family disapprove. They believe I am strange, odd in more ways than one. As for what inspired it," taking a breath, she let it huff out of her and her eyes took on a haunted look, not unlike the ones the master often wore. "It was an incident some years gone. A friend of mine became injured rather terribly and I attempted to heal it, but I failed."

"Did they pass on?" Maxym asked softly.

"No," Y/N replied, shaking her head. "I was able to close the wounds, but the scars remain to this day. They are marks of my failure and from that day on I swore I would never again fail anyone who needed my help."

"If I might be so bold, miss. What manner of injury was it?"

A little of the colour in her face drained away. "It was of the mouth. The lips, to be more precise. The scars are small white points above and below them."

Maxym fell silent in the face of those words. Her imagination painted a clear enough picture for her to understand what happened.

Taking hold of her cup, she drained the now lukewarm tea and freed her herself of the blankets and climbed from the bed.

"And just where might you be off to?" Maxym asked, rising.

"It would be best if I did not say," Y/N replied and before the statue could even think of stopping her, she had left the room. Relying on her memory and praying to the Norns that he would not be present, she traced her way to the wing where she believed his rooms to be.

The suite of rooms were silent as she pushed the door open and stepped in, being sure to close the door behind her. Looking around, she felt an ache in her chest as she saw that he had modeled these rooms off of his ones in the capital. The fireplace, the sleeping chamber, even the study.

Standing at the threshold of said study, she let her eyes wander. The desk bore the signs of use, scrolls and books placed in haphazard piles, inkpots and sharpened quills neatly lined up. Entering the study, she approached the desk and ran a light finger over it. There was no dust.

Moving around, she touched the chair, her fingers drumming against its back while her eyes wandered over the desk and its contents. Her shifting gaze finally came to a halt when she caught sight of a small stack of parchment. It was unassuming at first glance, nothing particularly special. But as she peered closer she saw that they were a collection of letters, the seals broken.

With trembling hands, she reached out and carefully picked them up. Her jaw began to quiver and her vision began to blur as she came to recognise the seal as her own. These were her letters. The ones she had sent him. Her shaking fingers danced over the ribbon that held them together and she gasped softly. For there, right beside where the letters had been and where the sun would shine into the room, stood the crystalline snowdrops she had gifted him with. 

Setting the letters back to where they belonged, she gently touched the flowers, a sob breaking free. The rainbows caused by the crystal settled on her hand and teardrops that landed there.

When at last she found it within herself to leave, she did not return to her room, but rather found her way to the west wing. The ruins disturbed her now as they did the first time. Upon finding the room where she believed the rose to be, she entered but did not dare to summon a light, for she was not alone.

There, standing by the rose was another figure. She did not have to guess who it might be. He stood slightly bowed, one hand raised and hovering near the flower. She watched in silence as he reached closer, making as though to touch the rose, only to hiss and sharply pull the hand back. The hand that she now saw to be not the pale ivory she knew, but a deep blue.

Her soft gasp had him turn in her direction. The weak winter sun backlit him and brought into relief his ruby eyes. "Jötunn," she whispered, feeling her breath come short and fast. How was one of their kind here?

"Indeed," he said and she knew it was he. Her fear became confusion.

"Loki?" She whispered, a hand lightly covering her lips, her eyes wide.

"As I was born," he replied, spreading his arms wide and smiling in a manner that she found altogether quite sinister. When no words came from her, he continued. "Now that you have seen me, will you run? Will you run from the monster? The beast?"

Swallowing hard, she took a step forward and reached out to him. "I will never run from you and I see no monster. Only you."

Looking to her outstretched hand, he fought not to take it, instead he turned away and stalked his way back to the rose. 

"What is that flower to you?" She asked, letting her hand drop.

This time when he looked to her, he appeared eerily calm. "My due." The soft delivery of those two words brought tears to her eyes, for there was a pain in them that she longed to comfort, but did not understand.


	12. The misuse of Hope

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Fandral scoffed. "Naturally, I do. How else am I to obtain permission?"

Sif frowned. "But surely you have heard the stories that are beginning to circulate? The rumors?"

"And since when are we those that believe them?"

"Since they concern the lady you wish to marry," Volstagg replied.

Fandral was silent. Yes, he had heard the whispers. The many varied stories had reached him of what had happened to her since her arrival. He could not afford to believe them, he simply could not. "It has been an age since anything of interest has occurred," he replied, "the people need something of which to gossip."

"What should happen if they bear some truth?" Sif asked, shifting slightly in her saddle. "What if she truly is there?"

"Then we shall handle it in a befitting manner."

In silence they rode on. It was not long before their destination came into view. The manor itself was elegant, by far more so than most of the Aesir estates.

"How long do you believe this will take?" Volstagg asked as they trotted up the main house and dismounting.

Fandral shrugged and adjusted his cloak, Sif rolled her eyes as he twirled his mustache and winked at his own reflection. "Not very long," he replied. "By now she has undoubtedly spoken to her family of me so they shall know what I am about." 

Sif made to shoot back a remark when the carved oak doors of the manor opened and a young man stepped forward. Lord Viggó, if they recalled correctly. "My lords, my lady," he greeted them, bowing in deference to their rank.

Bowing in return, the four companions returned the greeting.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?" Viggó asked, eyeing them each in turn.

"I would have a word with your father," Fandral replied, stepping forward. "There is a matter of importance I wish to discuss with him. Is he about?"

There was a pause before Viggó replied. "He is. He is presently occupied with matters concerning my sister. Perhaps another time?"

"It just so happens," Fandral said, "that your sister is also the matter which I desire to discuss with your lord father."

Viggó did not bother to hide his surprise, surprise which soon melted into resignation. "I ought to be more shocked, but now the news must be spread all across the realm. Come then, all of you. My parents will no doubt welcome your assistance."

So the stories held merit after all. Chancing a glance at his companions, Fandral shrugged before following Viggó into the manor.

In truth, he had never set foot in the place before and what greeted him, surprised him. It was beautiful inside as it was without and one might say that the family held a certain admiration for the light elves. Seidr seemed to flow through every aspect of the home and it set them on edge.

"Here we are," Viggó announced as they stood before a pair of light wood doors that bore a lifelike carving of a willow tree. "Allow me to alert them to your presence before you enter." With those words he opened one of the halves and slipped into the room beyond.

"I do not know about you all," Volstagg muttered, casting his eyes around. "But the sooner we are to leave, the better."

"Agreed," Hogun murmured, his eyes narrowed as he saw the branches of the willow sway a touch.

Before another word could be spoken, Viggó reappeared and motioned for them to follow him. The room they entered was a library, the numerous shelves reaching up the high vaulted ceilings and filled with more books than either had ever seen.

The library was warm, made so by a rather large fireplace in which a hearty fire crackled. Some distance from the fire stood a large table with two figures bowed over it.

"Mother? Father?" Viggó called softly, catching the attention of the couple.

They looked up in unison, their gaze flickering from their son to the newcomers. It was the Lady Avyanna that spoke first, stepping forward and smiling warmly, "welcome. We bid you thanks in this most distressing time."

As the firelight and the surrounding candles caught on her features and hair, Fandral could easily see where her daughter gained her beauty. "It is we who must thank you, my lady," he replied, bowing. "But if I may, I have but one question. It is quite simple really."

Lord Václav inclined his head and laid a gentle hand on his wife's shoulder. "Please."

His earlier confidence began to melt away as now he stood before her parents and brother, each watching him closely and with no small amount of curiosity. Steeling himself, he lifted his chin and presented his most charming smile. "I humbly seek permission for your daughter's hand in marriage."

Silence followed his words. Silence that was only ended by a heavy sigh from her father.

"You would ask such a thing at this time?" Viggó asked, moving to stand beside his parents. "You would ask to marry her when she has been abducted? I believed you came to offer your aid."

The young man's vitriol was well understood and taken in stride. "Then allow me to prove my worth," Fandral said, "I will bring your daughter back to you."

Václav shook his head, chuckling. "Have you not been told? The wards that surround that place trap all who are inside. They are unable to leave."

Fandral shared a look with the trio behind him.

"His Majesty has yet to speak with the prisoner," Václav continued. "He will reason with him to release her, to stand aside as the wards are weakened sufficiently."

"Forgive me, my lord," Sif spoke up. "But reason shall not work, not here and not with him. He is beyond it. You saw it as well as we, on the day of the sentencing."

A low murmuring of agreement hummed through the room.

"Creatures such as that are not to be _reasoned_ with by the use of mere words," Sif continued. "Violence is what they know, violence is what they will respond to. Action is required here, my lord."

"What do you suggest, good Lady Sif?" Avyanna asked, taking hold of her husband's hand.

The warrioress smiled thinly, her dark eyes alight.

It was some time later that the Warriors Three and Sif emerged from the library with Viggó as their guide. None spoke as he led them through the manor and back to the main doors.

"We thank you," Viggó said as they mounted their steeds. "And I apologise for my harsh words earlier, Lord Fandral, you meant no harm."

Fandral smiled at the young lord. "It is no matter," he replied. "She is your sister and you are worried for her. One cannot even begin to imagine what fear must be gripping her at this very moment. You have my sympathies and my assistance."

Viggó watched in silence as the small group departed. Letting out a heavy sigh, he leaned against the pillar by the main doors.

It was at that very moment however, in a secluded room that only few knew of, that the Allfather spoke with the one Asgard had named condemned. His summoned form hovered amidst the heat of the brazier.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" The sneer was unmistakable.

"The Lady Y/N," Odin replied, "is she with you?"

A terrible silence answered him, right as a small smile curved the Prince's lips. "And if she was?"

"Then you will release her."

It was then that Loki laughed. "Release her?' He repeated, the cold and humourless laughter echoing in the air around them. "Why Allfather, have you grown forgetful in your old age?" His emerald eyes hardened and his words came out in a hiss. "Your wards let no one leave. Not myself and most certainly not her."

Now it was Odin's turn to smile.

"I am glad that you still find my words humorous," Loki muttered.

"You will stand aside as she goes free."

"What?" The word was whispered.

"Did you really believe that I would leave a subject of mine in your company? Where your influence might corrupt them?"

"Oh, I don't know," Loki replied, his smile reappearing. "What would you say if I told you she came to me of her own volition? Lost in a storm?"

"I would say your imagination has grown in your time away," Odin said, folding his arms. "You always did twist the situation to suit your own needs. But no more. You will allow her to go free, am I understood?"

"When?"

"The day after tomorrow. The Warriors Three and Lady Sif will be there to greet her and take her home."

"Why wait?" Loki asked much too calmly. "Why not have it done right this moment?"

"Because," the King answered, "you require a chance to say your farewells, do you not?" 

"You spiteful old man," Loki sneered, curling his lip. "How do I know that it was not you who sent her?"

"Sent her?" His once-father echoed, a cruel smile beginning to form. "Oh no. For I would send no one to be with you. Your sentence is isolation and so it shall remain until you have fulfilled the terms."

"And how, pray tell, will those _terms_ be honoured if I do not have the company of another?" Loki demanded.

"You have a sharp mind," Odin said. "I am certain that in time, you will come to the conclusion yourself."

A beat of silence passed before the Prince spoke again, this time in a much softer tone. "You wish for the rose to burn," he whispered, a touch of horror to his voice. "You wish for me never to set foot beyond these gates ever again."

"Like I told you," came Odin's reply. "I knew you would see the truth of it sooner or later."

Loki said nothing. He simply gazed back at the man he had called father. The man who had raised him. "Truth has no part in this," he said at last.

"If that is how you perceive it, then-"

"Loki?"

That new voice. One he had not heard in much too long. Its gentle timbre caressed his heart. "Mother?"

When Frigga stepped into view, drawing herself away from the shadows that had concealed her, she smiled up at the likeness of her son. "Little one," she murmured fondly while tears shone in her eyes.

"Enough of this," Odin cut in, making to end the discussion. "Frigga, you should not be here."

"That is where you are wrong," she replied, her attention not wavering for a moment from her youngest. "I should have been here from the beginning." Reaching out to him, she believed, for one beautiful moment, that their hands might touch.

Neither she nor Loki heard the King leave.

"Amma," he choked out, one hand reaching out to her, trembling as it did so.

It tore at Frigga's heart to see him so. "Hush now, little one," she soothed. "I am here, as I will always be and I love you, as I always will."

"Why?"

Through her own tears, the Queen smiled, "because you are my son."

"But-"

"No," she shook her head. "Nothing you could say would change that. Now, my beautiful one, will you tell me? Will you tell me the truth?"

"The truth?" Loki echoed, confused.

"Aye," she replied. "The truth of what really happened. For I do not, for one moment, believe that it was purely out of spite that you went to Midgard."

A minute shake of the head from Loki confirmed her suspicions.

"Will you tell me, dearest? Will you tell me what really happened?"

An eternity passed before he gave his answer. "Yes," he whispered, barely loud enough to hear and so he did. He laid it all before her, only stopping when he caught sight of her tears, rolling silently down her cheeks.

"Such horrors," Frigga murmured, horrified and never had she hated the distance between them so much. "How could one possibly survive them all?"

Loki's eyes were sad as he regarded her. "You don't."


	13. The Garden

Though covered in snow, the grounds intrigued her. She had yet to explore it all. Attired in a simple green linen gown and a black woolen cloak, she stepped out into the snow, smiling as the snow crunched beneath her booted feet. A cool breeze passed through, toying with the strands of hair not confined to the braid.

Her ungloved hands left small trails where her fingers danced over the frost covered branches and leaves.

The sun sparkled gently wherever snow had fallen, appearing to make the entirety of the grounds glimmer. Sighing softly, she turned where she stood and looked back at the palace. Even from where she stood, she knew which balcony to be his. There was no movement now, nothing to hint that the castle's master was within.

Her smile now was sad.

It remained so as she continued to wander, ducking under arches that would blossom with roses come spring. With a small wave of her hand, she cast an illusion, the flowers blooming above her, their scent reaching her. Reaching up, she let her fingers brush the petals, a beautiful yellow edged in red. The colours reminded her of a sunset. Letting her hand drop, she felt the image whisper into the air around her.

The scent lingered and seemed to follow her as she continued to explore.

It was as she neared the western border of the grounds that she felt it. A warmth that she had not felt since she had left Alfheim. This warmth was soft and gentle, not as the heat of a fire, but rather of the strengthening sun in the springtime. Eager and curious, she followed it.

It did not take long for her to come across a sight that stopped her in her tracks. A few feet from where she stood was a stone archway with pale pink dog roses growing along it in abundance. The archway bore no gate and from beyond it, she could see a pale stone pathway surrounded by multitudes of colourful blooms and flowering trees. The soft trilling of birds reached her and the gentle warmth of the sun greeted her from beyond.

Her own seidr swirled to life within her, it crept to pool in her palms, begging to be joined with the one that had so very clearly created this apparition of a garden. Raising a hand, she let forth but a small amount and watched with a smile as the golden light twirled about above her palm, so clearly at ease.

With but a few steps, she had stepped through the arch and stood upon the sun drenched pathway. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back as her lungs filled with the pure, warm air.

Unclasping her cloak, she draped it over her arm. Her feet made not a sound as she padded along the path, a path where delicate violets grew between the stones. Yet not a step she took crushed them.

With wandering eyes, she looked around. A plethora of colour and gentle perfumes. Her heart leapt as she began to recognise the plants and she could not help but reach out and lightly touch the soft petals of the foxglove. "You make an excellent tea," she murmured to the towering flower. "I have some of your kind in my glasshouse." Moving on she spoke with all those she passed.

The honeysuckle with its delicate yellow and white blossoms.

The snapdragon and its multicoloured spires.

The dandelion and the daisy.

The fragrant jasmine and bright carnation.

The bushes of basil and trees of rowan.

It was a garden designed and created to heal, for the plants within it all bore medicinal properties. It was a treasure beyond compare and with a rush of longing, she imagined him standing beside her as he had done in his mother's gardens and glasshouse. Were those days gone for good? Was she now destined to simply catch a glimpse of him should they be in the same room?

Would they ever hold conversations such as the ones that had often ruled their time together in the past?

Sighing, she smiled sadly at the plants around her. "I know," she whispered, "the heart is the most difficult to heal."

Choosing to go barefoot, she held her boots and stockings in the hand of the arm that carried the cloak. The stone was cool beneath her feet and the violets felt as grass. A warm breeze replaced the cold one of before and smoothed along her cheeks.

She had truly never seen a place more beautiful.

She heard it first. The soft, unmistakable sound of running water. Dropping all she carried in her excitement, she followed the sound and soon came to a series of pools that reflected the crystal clear sky above. Each of these pools was fed by the waterfall a short distance away. The torrent of water cascaded over rocks and ferns as it wound its way to the pools, each deeper than the last.

Resting a hand against the trunk of a nearby willow, she gazed out across the scene, a wistful smile pulling at her lips. Whomsoever had created this place was truly a master. Stepping away from the tree, she padded her way along the rocky edges of the pools, being careful not to slip. Water lilies floated serenely on the water's surface, white and deep magenta with golden centers that looked as though they glowed.

Kneeling by the bank, she dared to reach out and touch one. She dared not pluck it, no matter how much she may have wished it. Upon standing again, she resumed her walk, relishing the feel of the soft grass beneath her bare soles.

So entranced was she by her surroundings that she did not see that she was not alone. The garden had drawn another to itself.

Upon seeing a stone bench near the water's edge, she changed direction and made for it, or she would have, had she not seen the ordered arrangement of folded clothes that lay upon it. Immediately ducking behind the nearest tree, she chanced a glance around, but saw not a soul. Confused, she slowly emerged from her hiding spot and approached the bench.

The clothing was unremarkable, bearing no distinct marking or embroidery. The forest green tunic would likely have reached just below her knee and the fabric felt soft beneath her inquisitive touch. The surcoat was of a dark leather, the trousers and boots too. The one who wore these likely preferred simplicity and functionality over needless extravagance. The articles were clearly created to last and withstand many day's wear.

Stepping away from the clothing, she cast her eye over the pool closest and still saw no sign of another being.

"How odd," she muttered and made to turn back the way she had come when the gentlest of splashes reached her ears, perking them up. Diving once more behind the tree she had chosen earlier, she cast a cloaking spell and peaked out.

There. Now she saw them. Saw him. She watched as he rose from the water, the sun catching off the droplets that fell from his hair and skin. His eyes did not once look her way and for that she was glad for she was certain that her cheeks were the brightest shade of red. Ducking away, she closed her eyes as she heard him approach the bench with the clothing she now knew to be his.

But a moment later, her curiosity won out and she stepped out from behind her tree, only to stop in her tracks as horror flooded her. His back was turned as he readied the tunic to be worn, thus only attired in his trousers and boots. Her breath came short and fast as she beheld the chilling display of scars that covered every inch of his back. On legs that shook, she made her way to him and stopped a short distance away. Tears distorted her vision as she beheld the healed injuries up close.

Burns and evidence of brands. The signature lash of the whip. Amongst so many others that she cared not to name. What in the Nine had happened to him? Who had done this to him? Anger burned bright hot within her, even as her hand trembled as she held it out, stopping a hair's breath from his skin.

She did not know how long she stood there, only that a moment later, a hand had latched itself around her wrist and held it firm.

"What are you doing?" The words were measured and sounded as such.

She said nothing in reply. For what could she possibly say? No words, let alone complete sentences, came to mind. The tears that had gathered in her eyes finally spilled over. Her jaw worked as though she was speaking, yet her voice remained silent, rendered so by the sight of such brutality and cruelty. "What-?" She finally managed to say. "Where- how-? Who?"

He said nothing in the face of her questions. He simply returned her gaze and let her wrist go.

"What-" she tried again and swallowed hard. "Who-? When-?"

"Not long after you left."

Her eyes widened. "What?" She whispered. "Why? What could you possibly have done to merit those?" It seemed her ability to speak coherent sentences had finally returned. "Who did that to you?"

"Someone I pray you will never encounter," he replied and shrugged the tunic on, securing it and slipping on the surcoat.

"Why did they do that?" She whispered, unable to speak any louder.

"Disobedience was not tolerated and they sought to break me."

"And did they?" She asked, her voice small and her eyes large. She swallowed a sob as he answered with a curt nod, a sob that soon became a choked gasp. "Why?" She whimpered.

"Because-" he cut himself off at the look of devastation in her eyes. "Because I was weak and my mind was malleable."

She shook her head, her braid swaying. "You have never let yourself be influenced by others. Why was this time so different?"

"I had little choice," he replied softly, looking out towards the pools.

"We always have a choice," she said, daring to step closer. "In everything we do."

He shook his head. "Not that time," he murmured. "Not when I wished to keep my life, as pathetic and worthless as it is. I am no stranger to pain, but an eternity of it did not appeal to me, and that was what awaited me should I fail."

"Fail in what?"

Still he did not look her way and yet, the look in his eyes was a wretched one. "The subjugation of a realm and the retrieval of a great treasure. The Tesseract. I was to obtain it, failure meant undending torture and agony of the worst possible kind."

She gasped softly. She knew well what the Tesseract was. "Who would ask such a thing of you?" She asked, her voice trembling. "Who could possibly instill such fear in one like you?"

Now he looked to her. "Do not," he whispered, his eyes pleading with her. "Do not ask me to say his name."

"Is that why you have come here?" She asked instead, "to this isolated place? Is that why you chose to leave the capital, so that none may see what that creature inflicted on you?"

"Chose?" He echoed and smiled without warmth. "I did not choose to come here."

Confusion swam through her and her eyes said as much.

"I was brought here," he explained. "As punishment."

"Punishment? For what? What could you possibly have done to be sent here?"

Taking a step back, he answered her. "I have the blood of mortals on my hands. In the eyes of this realm and of Midgard, I am a monster. A cold-hearted murderer."

"That is untrue," she protested, not bothering to wipe her eyes. "You were given no choice! You had to survive and did all you could to ensure that! How can they not see that?"

"Because they do not know."

Her eyes widened. "How can they not know?"

"Because they did not ask."

"You did not tell them?" She whimpered, her hands clenched to keep them from shaking. "How can you not tell them?"

"Because I was not given the chance," he replied, an edge to his calm tone. "And do you really believe that they would have listened?"

"No one asked you?" She whispered, horrified. "No one?"

He shook his head. "Only the Queen and that was after the sentence had been passed."

A choked sob broke free and she pressed a hand to her heart, her legs giving way as she collapsed onto the stone bench. "When did this happen?" She managed to ask.

"Ten years ago."

Her fingers curled and dug into the fabric of her gown as she doubled over, sobs wracking her frame as realisation slammed into her. "Two years after I left," she wept, looking up and meeting his emerald gaze.

"Indeed."

"Is that why you have distanced yourself from me?" She asked, forcing herself to rise and stand before him. "Because you feared my reaction once I knew the truth?"

His silence was her answer and her smile was sad. Reaching out, she took his hands in her own. "You need never fear me," she said gently. "Nothing you could say or do would push me away."

"You have seen what I am," he hissed, drawing away from her. "The creature I am beneath this facade," he said, gesturing to himself.

"Yes," she replied, nodding. "I have and I care not. You are still Loki, and I trust you. I always have and I always will. I care not what race you hail from or has your faith in me faltered?"

He did not meet her gaze. He could not. "No," he whispered, soft as a breath of wind.

Her smile did not quite reach her eyes. "Why do you not look at me?" She asked. "Why do you turn away?"

Taking a breath as though to steady himself, he hardened his resolve and spoke. "You are to leave on the morrow."

All breath left her and she stumbled back. "What?"

"The wards will weaken to allow you to go free," he explained, hating himself for the quiver returning to her voice and he knew that the moment he looked into her eyes, all would be lost.

"What of you?"

"What of me?"

"Will you be free to go as well?"

He shook his head. "No."

She watched in stunned silence as he departed. Pressing her lips together in a thin line, she fought for composure and made to stand, only for her legs to give way. So she fell to her knees and wept, her face buried in her hands as her shoulders shook. She felt as though she were breaking and no one was there to pick up the pieces.


	14. To bid farewell

"Tell me," she said as Maxym helped her into a dark blue [gown,](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/fantasy-dress-lost-princess) "has the master ever spoken of his reason for coming here?"

Maxym shook her head and fastened the engraved silver girdle around her waist. "No, miss," she replied.

"Has he told you anything at all?"

After a moment of thought, the statue nodded. "He told us only what we needed to know."

"And what might have been?"

"Well, for one," Maxym said, moving to stoke the fire before turning back to her charge. "Of the enchanted rose he had brought."

"The burning one, correct?"

Maxym nodded. "Indeed, miss."

"What is its meaning? Not the colour, I know that one. But rather, why is it burning and why does he feel the need to protect it?"

Maxym sighed and motioned for Y/N to come beside her. "My dear, when we first encountered the master, he said very little. But what he did say was this, that he had been given an ultimatum by the Allfather and should the rose burn before the terms have been honoured, then he would remain in this castle for the rest of his days."

Y/N's brow furrowed as she thought. "The wards," she murmured, "they already trap us here..."

"Aye," Maxym agreed, "but now the master is still free to walk the grounds. Should that day come where the rose is no more, then he will never be able to set foot outside again and his magic will be taken from him."

Maxym's words horrified the young woman by her side. Swallowing hard, she looked from the fire to the statue. "Every spell can be broken," she said, "and every curse lifted. So it shall be with your master, I am sure of it. He is most resourceful."

Maxym only sighed and shook her head. "Not this time, miss."

"But why ever not?" Y/N asked. "What were the terms?"

"Two things the Allfather deemed impossible, at least for the master."

Y/N was fast becoming impatient. "Which are?"

"The ability to gain another's unconditional love and trust."

"I see," she whispered, her hands fidgeting where they rested against her. She had a niggling suspicion of where these terms might have come from. She had never considered the Allfather a cruel man, a little stern perhaps, but never cold of heart. Did he truly have such little faith in his son?

"You knew him though," Maxym said, the beginnings of a smile on her granite lips. "The master, I mean. Before he came to be here, did you not?"

"Aye," Y/N whispered and looked to the fire before settling in one of the armchairs. "I did."

"You knew him well?"

"I would never presume that," Y/N replied. "But yes, I believe I had come to know him in ways that even his own brother did not."

A silence settled over them, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

"I have but one question," she said after a short while, her hands beginning to fidget again in her lap.

"And what might that be, miss?"

A strange shyness crept over her and brought a light flush to her cheeks. "Did he-" she began before cutting herself off and licked her lips before trying again. "Did he ever, oh I don't know, speak me? Not me specifically," she added quickly, "but someone he may have once considered a friend?"

Maxym did not answer right away, instead, she too looked to the fire and smiled, albeit a little sadly. "Never directly to me," she replied softly. "To Garryn neither. But I saw him once, about two years after he had come here. I had chanced upon the very garden you discovered yesterday."

Surprise had rendered her silent, thus allowing Maxym to continue.

"When I saw him I believed it to be a most peaceful scene, filled with serenity and calm. I was soon to see however, that it was not the case and I had been mistaken. For, as I watched in silence as he sat by the bank of one of the pools and held out a hand. I remember well the fascination I had felt then as he manipulated the water before him. At first I did not know what it was he was creating, but as the moments passed, it became clear that it was another being. A young woman. I could not tell the colour of her hair as she was made entirely out of water."

Swallowing hard, Y/N finally found it within herself to speak, her voice soft. "Who was she?"

Reaching out, Maxym took her hand and squeezed it gently. "You."

"Me?"

Maxym nodded. "Indeed, miss. At the time I did not know who she was. But now I do."

"Did- did he say anything?" Y/N asked, meeting the statue's eyes.

"No," Maxym replied and smiled in apology. "He never did, not even when he would read your letters."

"My letters?" She felt like a fool for parroting the words back, but she had to be sure.

"Yes, miss. I have seen him read them on more than one occasion and though he said not a word as to their nature, his eyes were always a little red after."

_I cannot leave. I cannot leave him to this fate. I cannot-_

Her thoughts were interrupted by Maxym holding up a black woolen [cloak](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/lost-princess-cloak-cape) out before her, its fur trimmed hood catching in the firelight. "Maxym?" She asked, eyeing the garment.

"The master says you are leaving us today," the statue said, a slight tremor to her voice.

"I-" she could barely manage the entire sentence, let alone the few words. Shaking her head, she stood and made for the bed and promptly sitting at its edge. "I cannot," she said. "I cannot leave him here."

Setting the cloak aside, Maxym approached her and knelt before her, taking her hands between her own. "He wishes only the best for you, miss."

Clenching her jaw, Y/N shook her head and fought the impending tears. "No," she whispered. "No. I cannot leave, not again."

"He is safe, miss," Maxym murmured kindly. "Naught can harm him here."

"No where is safe from the nightmares," Y/N muttered before her eyes focused on the maid. "He told me, you know. Of everything that occurred after I had left for Alfheim, every detail," pausing, she bent her head as the tears came. "It is not my story to tell, only know that those years held more horror and suffering than joy for him."

"I see," Maxym murmured, humming low in her throat.

"I cannot even begin to imagine what these last years have been like for him," Y/N continued, shuddering lightly. "Trapped and alone."

The hour of her departure grew closer and with it, her decision that there was one last matter that demanded her attention. Accepting the cloak and draping it around her shoulders, she nodded to Maxym. "The time is near at hand," she said, "would you kindly ask Garryn to come to the entrance hall along with yourself? There is something I must tell you both."

"Of course, miss, but where are you headed now?"

"It is best you do not know," was the whispered reply, followed by a small smile. With those words, Y/N opened her chamber doors and stepped out into the corridor beyond. There were a number of places she ought to look, any yet only one gave the strongest pull.

Allowing memory to guide her, she followed her feet until they came to halt before a pair of solid mahogany doors. Reaching out with a gloved hand, she hesitantly touched the door handle before gripping it and turning.

The door swung open without a sound and revealed to her an empty room and with it, disappointment. She had, on her way, looked from the castle's windows and had seen a group of four individuals waiting just beyond the gates.

Stepping into the series of rooms, she called his name softly but received no answer. Perhaps she ought to have gone to the library instead. Turning on her heel, she made for the door, only to pause and glance over her shoulder. Her gaze fell on the balcony that was partially shrouded by sheer emerald curtains. It was through these that she now made out a shape.

Pulling together what resolve she still possessed, she made her way to him. "Loki?" She called a second time.

He gave no word in answer, only turning a little in her direction and gracing her with his profile.

"I am to depart," she said loud enough for him to hear. "I spied the Warriors Three and Lady Sif on my way here. It seems as though they will be my escorts."

The Prince simply nodded and turned back to face the grounds.

"Does this not remind you?" She said, taking a step forward. "Of my last departure." A sad smile curved her lips as she recalled. "You had hidden away as you do now and though all were waiting for me by the Bifrost, I came to seek you out." Pausing, she took a shuddering breath before continuing. "Will you have me relive it?" She whispered, "only now, when I leave, I shall with all likelihood, never see you again. They will not allow me to return, you know that."

"You must forget me," he said, startling her. "Forget this place."

"What?" Her voice was weak, weighed down with emotion.

He paused before answering. "It is for the best."

"Do you know what thoughts sadden me the most?" She asked, clasping her hands together to keep them from shaking.

He shook his head, but still did not turn around.

"The thought of never seeing you again," she replied, taking another step forward. "The thought of never hearing you again. The thought of never being able to touch you again. I know much has changed, but I had hoped that perhaps at least, you and I had remained the same." Reaching out, she lay a gentle hand on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

Retracting her hand, she stepped back and smoothed her skirts before making for the doors. Her hand paused on the handle. "I do not wish to leave," she said. "But you have made it abundantly clear that you do not wish for my presence. I wish to stay and offer my help in any way I can," as she spoke, she felt the first tear fall and land on her hand. "I know little of the horrors you faced and the demons you must fight, I only wish you would let me fight them with you."

When the door closed behind her, he let out the breath he had been holding. Turning to face the doors, he knew his time was running short. He heard her as he made his way to the entrance hall, becoming one with the shadows. The fur trim of the cloak was gathered around her neck and her hands were sheathed in the same black as the cloak. He watched as she spoke with Garryn and Maxym, the last snatches of their conversation reaching him.

"....promise me?" She was saying, looking at the pair before her.

The statues nodded solemnly. "You have our word, miss," Garryn replied and bowed while Maxym curtsied.

In a moment of weakness, he stepped from the shadows and echoed the words his heart cried out. "Look at me," he whispered as she approached the doors. "One last time." Ignoring the looks of surprise from the statues, he made his way to the windows that looked out to the entryway and gate.

She was easy to spot, having drawn the cloak's hood. He watched as she mounted the waiting horse and was soon surrounded by her escorts. His heart leapt within him as, by some miracle, she turned ever so slightly and looked back the castle.

For one beautiful moment, their eyes met. Then she was swallowed by the white expanse of the forest.

The entire journey back to the estate was fraught with questions she did not wish to answer. So, she remained silent, her hands gripping the reins perhaps a little too tightly. He had been there, watching her go. She had offered a smile but she doubted he had seen it.

The moment her family estate came into view, she squeezed her thighs and made a small noise, one that her mount recognised. Soon the walk became a canter and then a gallop and soon she had left the four companions behind.

It seemed as though her arrival had been anticipated and she was greeted with the sight of her family waiting for her. Each wore an expression of overwhelming relief and all stepped forward as she came to a halt before them. These people, _her family,_ had lied to her, hoping she would never discover the awful truth. Upon dismounting, she said nothing to them and simply led her horse to the stables.

Footsteps crunched behind her. "What do you want?" She asked as she settled her horse in an empty stall.

"Why such hostility?" Viggó asked, stopping short at her sharp tone. "Surely you would not begrudge me embracing my sister welcome? You have returned to us, safe and sound despite-"

She turned at the silence and met her brother's gaze. "Despite what?" She asked, folding her arms. "Where I was, perhaps? Who I was with?"

"You know then," her brother muttered.

"Indeed I do," she snapped. "No thanks to you or mother and father. There had been so many chances to tell me and explain the events of _ten years ago!"_

Viggó flinched.

"How could you not think to tell me?" She demanded. "How could you omit such a detail?"

"You did not need to know."

Her eyes narrowed. "Explain." When silence answered her, she nodded. "I thought as much. Now go, there is much for me to do and little for you to say."


	15. The Power of Words

With a deep sigh, she dragged her fingers through her hair, streaking dirt through the strands. It was truly no good, she had given it everything she had and it still did not seem enough.

There was nothing for it. Abandoning her efforts, she wiped what dirt was left on her hands onto her already muddied apron. Smiling faintly at the plants she knelt before, she pushed herself to her feet. "I must go, my darlings," she murmured, gently stroking their leaves. "Hopefully I shan't be gone for long."

Upon exiting the glasshouse, she shivered as the cold bit at any exposed skin it could find. Her hair was soon wrangled into obedience as she made her way to the stables where Aurnia awaited her.

"Just where might you believe you're going?" Viggó asked, stepping out of the shadows cast by the overhanging roof and crossed his arms.

"That is none of your concern," she replied sharply and veered around him, entering the stables and making for Aurnia's stall, saddle and tack in hand.

"I think you'll find that it is," her brother said, having followed her. "Mother and father will not be pleased to discover that I have allowed you go."

"Is that what I am now?" She asked, pausing in her work . "A prisoner in my own home."

"Must you say it like that?"

"How else am I to say it?" She demanded, securing the saddle before turning to her brother. "Ever since I returned I have not been permitted to set foot off the estate, let alone the manor."

"You know why," Viggó muttered.

"Even if I did," she replied, turning back to Aurnia and mounting up. "It would not prevent me from going now. Go ahead, tell our parents, I care not." With those words, she urged her horse into a walk as they left the stables, only breaking into a gallop once they had cleared the building.

Bending low, she gripped the reins tightly and clenched her teeth against the stinging cold. She thanked the shrouded stars that the palace was not far. Her resolve strengthened within her as she saw him in her mind's eye.

The surprised shouts of the townspeople were muted as she streaked though the town and into the palace courtyard. In one fluid motion, she dismounted and made her way to the one place where she was likely to find the Aesir Crown Prince.

The sounds of clanging metal and the grunts and groans of training warriors greeted her soon enough as she traced her way through the well known corridors. For a moment, she hid and watched. There he was, sparring with Lady Sif. The very sight of the warrioress had her roll her eyes, any mutterings of Sif's unladylike behaviour had been squashed the moment she proved herself in battle. Yet, her silent observer had not been permitted the same mercies and it rankled her, a brief flash of envy souring her mood before she pushed it away. Blood and battle she would not partake in.

From the corner of her eye she caught sight of the Warriors Three and sneered. Enough of this, she had come to the palace for a reason.

Separating herself from the shadows, she descended the stone steps that led to the training yard. Her presence did not go unnoticed for long.

"As pleased as I am to see you here," Fandral said, stepping forward. "This is no place for a lady such as yourself."

"Is that so?" She challenged and lifted her chin, meeting his gaze. "Worried I might show you up?"

"Your talents, as impressive as they are," Fandral continued, "lay elsewhere. I believe you might find yourself a little out of your depth here."

A smirk pulled at her lips and glanced around at the small audience they had amassed. "My depth?" She echoed softly and summoned a set of twin daggers. "I accept your challenge."

Quicker than lightning she moved, taking all by surprise. Dodging the strikes by Fandral's rapier, she counted with ones of her own and before long, he was beneath her, the tip of her dagger mere inches from his throat.

The yard was silent, silent save for the words she whispered to him. "I am adaptable and it would seem as though _you_ are out of your depth." Stepping away, she let the daggers disappear with a small gesture before she turned to Thor. "Your Highness, a word in private?"

"Of course," Thor replied, surprise rendering his voice soft. "Right this way."

She felt the curious stares of the men as she and their Prince left them behind.

The moment they were alone and away from prying eyes and curious ears, Thor turned to her, smiling brightly. "I am truly glad to see you returned well and hale. Your duel with Fandral will likely teach him some very much needed humilt-"

"You lied to me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You lied to me," she repeated, meeting his blue gaze head on. "About Loki. About where he is."

"Ah, yes."

"Why? Why did you not tell me?"

Thor averted his eyes and looked to the intricate carvings of the frame of a nearby window. "It did not seem-"

"He is my friend!" She cut in, her chest heaving with the effort to remain calm. "My best and only friend. Did I not deserve to know? Or were you hoping that I would forget him, just as you and the rest of Asgard is intent on doing?"

"How dare you-?" Thor hissed, rounding on her. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

"No," she snapped. "How dare you?! He is your brother, for Norn's sake! You have not seen or heard him in ten years and yet, now as you speak with one who has seen him, you do not ask after him. Not once have you enquired as to his wellbeing, his state of mind. Surely you must at least be curious? How are you not drowning me with questions?" Her eyes began to sting with tears and her jaw began to quiver. "He is all alone, Thor. Away from his home and those very few who still love him."

When she received no answer, she continued, her voice much softer now. "It has been a week and I am struggling." Lifting her gaze, she met his. "How are you to live each day knowing you may never see him again? Never hear his voice? Never once shake hands or embrace him? I am merely his friend and I can think of little else. How could you not tell me?" She whimpered, not caring if he saw her tears. "You of all people. Instead you spun a pretty little story for me, hoping I would never find out."

"That was not my intention."

"Then what was?" She asked, her eyes hardening. "Were you planning on telling me at all? Were you planning to wait until the rose had burnt?" At the sight of the shock on his face, she nodded, smiling bitterly. "Yes, I know of the rose. That thrice accursed flower and the terms your father has set." Pausing, she wiped her hands on her apron. "Viggó informed me, not long after I returned, that he had searched for me that day. Is that true?"

When Thor nodded, a choked sob bubbled up and she held a hand to her heart.

"I should have been there," she murmured. "I should have been there."

"It would not have changed anything."

"Are you so certain?" She asked, "through my presence, at the very least, he would have known that not all of Asgard had abandoned him."

"I have not-"

"But you have," she cut him off. "For tell me, did you ever stop to ask him why? Did you ever speak with him of what drove him there? Because I tell you now, the Loki I know and the Loki that is still there inside him, would never do anything of that nature."

"The Loki you knew is gone."

A sharp hiss blew past her lips as she glared at the Prince. "An untruth if ever I heard one," she said. "For in the short time I was with him again, I saw snatches. I caught glimpses, even if the horrors of his past dominate his present."

"Horrors?" Thor repeated. "What do you mean? How do you know all this?"

She smiled sadly as she made to leave. "You may be surprised at what some people will say to those who are willing to listen." With those words, she left Thor behind, the tears quickly find their way back and soon she was weeping. Her legs curled beneath her and her body shook.

"Y/N?"

The soft calling of her name brought her attention up and towards the speaker who stood a short distance away. "Allmother," she breathed and immediately made to stand, stumbling a little as she did so.

"My dear girl," the Queen said softly, concern clear in her kind eyes. "You seem most distressed. Whatever might the matter be?"

The look in her eyes was enough to convey the need for privacy.

"Come," Frigga said and smiled warmly. "My rooms will do nicely."

Nodding, she trailed beside the Queen as they made their way to wing of the palace where the royal family resided. Servants and guards bowed to them as they passed, each frowning a little at the simple brown [gown](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/medieval-dress-and-skirt-set-red-elise) and apron she wore.

Soon enough they stood before the doors that led to the Queen's suite of rooms. The doors sung open before them and Frigga glided in, dismissing her maid and attendants as she did so.

The moment they were alone, Frigga ushered her to sit and sat beside her. "While it gladdens my heart to see you here with us," she said, "I must ask you, how is he? How does he fare? Is he well?"

Fresh tears welled up at the Queen's soft words and she nodded. "Yes," she replied, wiping the tears away. "He is, as well as one can be in his situation."

Frigga smiled at her words and reached out a hand, hesitating for a moment before drawing it back.

"Did you know?"

Frigga nodded. "I did, yes. I was there that day and I wished so much to tell you, but before I could, you had disappeared once more."

"He-" she stopped and swallowed hard before continuing. "He told me that you were the only one who asked him why."

"Indeed I was," Frigga replied and looked down at her hands. "But I was too late. If I had been only a touch braver and spoken up earlier, then he may have stood a chance."

"Do you really believe so, Allmother?"

The Queen sighed. "In truth, it is what I wish for. But you and I both know that Asgard and her people have never cast a favourable eye on him, not matter how noble his actions or the reasons for them."

"Do you ever speak with him?"

Here she smiled, albeit sadly. "I am forbidden from doing so. Not even my seidr can reach him, the Norns know that I have tried."

Her throat convulsed as she swallowed back the tears.

"Do not hide your tears, dear one," Frigga said softly and nodded when she turned to face her. "Do not hide your grief, not from me."

"You are his mother," she sobbed. "How can you bear it all so calmly?"

"I appear only so where others may see me," Frigga replied. "But when I am alone? Why then, I weep and cry out and mourn for my child. My beautiful boy. And you, dear girl, how do you bear it?"

"I do not- I cannot-" came the whimpered reply. "Every day I am reminded and it hurts. Oh Norns! It hurts."

"Indeed it does, dear one." After a moment, Frigga spoke again. "What was it like? The castle and its grounds?"

She told the Queen everything, from the living statues to the restored interior. From the glistening frozen lake to the warm garden.

Frigga's eyes shone at the mention of the garden.

"You know it?"

"Aye," Frigga said softly, her eyes becoming distant. "I do. With every plant chosen for its properties, I had hoped he might make use of them, the waters too."

There was a moment of silence before Y/N broke it with an awed whisper. "It was you. You are its creator?"

"I am," the Queen replied.

"It is truly one of the most wondrous sights I have ever seen," Y/N murmured. Feeling strengthened after her time with the Queen, she made her farewells and swept from the rooms.

"And so she reappears," the voice alone made her groan to herself. "My Lady," he said, bowing before her.

"Fandral," she muttered in acknowledgement and stepped around him to continue on her way.

"Your father has promised me your hand," he called to her, smiling as she stopped walking and turned slowly to face him.

"What?"

"If I were to successfully bring you home, I was given the blessing of your parents."

"Is that so?"

He nodded and stepped up to her. "It is so, my lady." Reaching out before she was able to draw away, he took her hand and made to raise it to his lips, had a soft golden light not begun to surround her. Her hand soon faded away before his eyes and when he looked to her face, he saw her to be smiling.

"It is good then," she said, the golden light swallowing her form. "That I never left the castle. My future remains my own."

Her words echoed long after she had gone, leaving him to curse under his breath and shout his frustration to the empty halls. There was but one person who would dare to defy a wish from the Allfather in such a manner.

"Loki," the name was hissed and laced with venom. Only he would dare to do such a thing.

"What has you speaking his name?" Sif asked as she and Volstagg and Hogun came running, having heard his earlier cry.

"He has her still," Fandral spat. "He sent but an illusion to us."


End file.
